Fragments
by Allychik6
Summary: So it's all my fault that the Deatheaters got into Headquarters, so it's all my fault that we very nearly lost the war, so it's all my fault Lance died...but the worst thing that I did, the very worst thing I did? I forgot.
1. Chapter 1: Dances and Rumors

**This is my first Harry Potter fic, don't hold it against me**

**Fragments**

**Chapter One: Dances and Rumors**

"_Why did you invite him Hermione?" Ron asked whining a little but echoing my own question._

"_How can you ask that after everything that happened Ron!" Hermione looked more then a little annoyed. "If you didn't get it the first five times I explained it, then you won't get it this time either."_

_I walked away from the head table lost in thought. It felt odd to be around so many happy, cheerful people when I couldn't bring a smile to my face. But then, maybe I should be used to this feeling by now. The saying "standing on the outside looking in" didn't fit me. Instead I was that person on the inside who desperately wanted out, at least then I could explain those stupid feelings of loneliness._

_Then He passed through my vision, the one everybody was talking about. Strange how people change. He was the recluse seventh year and I the extroverted minor with a crush. How ironic now to see him chatting easily, happily while I barely existed._

_He glanced at me, captured my gaze, and something strange fluttered up in my stomach. But what was it? What did it mean? Why couldn't I remember? And most importantly, why did I want to feel it again and again?_

_Neville saw me and started to fight his way through the crowd to my side. But I wanted nothing more then to be alone and sort out my own perverse desires._

"_Dance with me, Lady," A deep voice whispered and that feeling in my stomach multiplied._

"_You're mistaken, sir. I don't dance." I tried to walk away, but he held on._

"_That's a lie. You love to dance Miss Weasley, but you don't dare share that scandalous fact with anyone."_

_My mind froze. How could he know? How could this virtual stranger know I loved to dance? How?_

_He pulled me out among the other couples and waited. I tried to resist the lure of the music, but as the seconds ticked away, it drew me in. The steady one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four had my heart beating in time. When the man extended his hand I couldn't **not** step forward or not place my hand in his or not be drawn into the dance._

_The fast paced music flowed through the fragments of my soul and heart as he pulled me against him. Strength radiated from his whole body, contradicting with my own willingness to bend. Spinning, twirling, yanking me close, he sent my body wheeling about just like my emotions. It was as if he could read my every desire through my hands._

_My head no longer felt connected to my body as he stared deep into my soul. And then we were apart, not touching but unable to look away from each other._

_A few girls moved in between us, trying to steal my partner, but my passion could not be denied. I pushed the girls aside and grabbed his hand, demanding his complete attention. And that was all the encouragement he needed to continue our own sensual movements._

_With bent knees, we were closer then close, our hearts beat in time. Apart, together, spin, I became aware of an inner rhythm, a calling that could not be ignored. We were body to body, intimately in sync, connected as no other on the dance floor._

_His hands moved to rest on my hips and I leaned back nearly in half. He pulled me back gruffly against him and our harsh breath mingled. In that moment I saw in his eyes all the loneliness, the pain, and horror I felt on a daily basis. And then he twirled me away._

_It was an attack on all my senses; I could feel the pulse of his heart below my hands, see the desire in his eyes, smell the sweetness of his sweat, hear his ragged breath, and taste my own need every time I licked my lips._

"_We're two of a kind, you and me." He whispered as our bodies twisted together in the heat of the music. "We both live half-lives, lives without hope, need, or passion."_

_His words rang true and here on the dance floor, in his arms, I felt alive. But why? Why did it feel so good here and now? "How do you know?"_

"_Eyes are windows to the soul and I see how you lust for life." The song started to wind to a close. "Grab life with both hands; don't be afraid to dance." And he was gone, melting into the crowd, disappearing from my life._

_My heart stopped. Not literally, it simply reverted back to its previous state of non-emotion, of non-life. People talked loudly around me, but I only caught the fragments._

"_-Amazing-"_

"_-The way they looked-"_

"_It's really too bad-"_

"_Do you understand now Ron?"_

"_-You-Know-Who—"_

"_-Curse-"_

"_-Forbidden love-"_

"_-Can't even remember-"_

"_-Too long-"_

"_And Harry Potter-"_

_The world spun around me. People, colors, sounds, past, present, they all blended together as if warped by the dance. My heart beat loudly, horribly, painfully. Tears streaked down my face. Oh why couldn't I remember? Damn them all!_

**Well, how did you all like it? I made some changes...not like any of you will notice.**


	2. Chapter 2: Paperwork and Dinner Parties

**Look! I've updated! Aren't you all proud of me? Anyway, for those of you who won't go back and re-read chapter 1, I did tweak it just a bit, nothing drastic. It's now all in italics. That means nothing to you now, but it will later. And if you don't read these little notes, well, you're up a creek without a paddle. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Paperwork and Dinner Parties**

Monday morning came—unfortunately. It dawned without thought or mercy towards my poor soul. Life would have been much better if time had just stopped during my sleep. An eternity in last night's dream wouldn't make for a bad eternity after all.

I sighed and slumped against the desk. Too bad dreams never last. Even now, the dream slipped slowly, fluidly, too easily from my memory. The only part the remained with me, a mere three hours after waking, was that lingering wisp of—of contentment.

But even as I remembered, that feeling too flowed away.

"Hey Gin!" Mary Ellen stuck her head in my office. "You've got some more paper work—wow, you didn't even touch that pile from Friday!"

I glanced at the very large heap of papers that covered the middle portion of my desk. "Oh. I guess I didn't get very much work done. I'll, umm, I'll get right on it." It did look like a very comfortable pillow, and if I laid on it long enough it would get smaller.

Mary Ellen smiled sadly, a look of pity caught in her eyes. "Don't you worry about it; I'll help you."

A flash of angry heat sizzled across my skin. She thought I was a total wreck, so broken others shouldn't even try to fix me. But it really didn't matter; everyone saw me as the ultimate hopeless case. "No, don't bother; you have more important things to worry about. I can handle a little paper work." I smiled so hard my face hurt.

"Alright then, but if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask." She sashayed her way back to the front office, and I glared at that pert rump she wiggled so obsessively.

It was familiar, as if someone I knew used to do the same thing.

"Damn it all." I mumbled and grabbed some blue ink. "This is getting just plain stupid."

The hours blurred together as I went over form after form, report after report all on miscellaneous and less then demanding tasks such as cauldron bottom thickness and broom handle widths. With the monotony, boredom set in quickly. There isn't much entertainment when the job description is one word: filing. At least the job didn't require much along the lines of brain power.

At the bottom of the pile and as the clock approached five o'clock, I found a curious piece of paper.

_To the highly esteemed Minister of Magic,_

_Although my devotion to this new Ministry has never been outright questioned, many of the gossips still hold to the rumor that I was a Deatheater. These rumors are, of course, beyond your control as I well know, but in order to still at least a few of the wagging tongues, I wish to bestow a series of gifts upon the Ministry. Due to my father's less then admirable character, many dubious items can be found in our Manor. On the following page is a list of names and descriptions of all of these vile items. Perhaps your officials might like to take a look at all of these objects? Also, I would like to make a substantial and anonymous donation towards the rebuilding of Diagon Alley. After all, everyone deserves a beautiful and safe place to do their shopping or pass an afternoon. It is imperative that this donation remain anonymous as the aforementioned tongues might take the donation to be a bribe rather than a gift. And lastly, in regard to the Weasley family, I would like to host a Gala in honor of Ronald and Hermione's wedding anniversary. It is a direct result of the actions of my father and many of his friends that they have suffered so, and as the sins of the father are passed down onto the son, I feel an obligation to give them more reasons to celebrate then to mourn. I hope that this weekly report does not cause any discord and meets with your approval._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco L. Malfoy _

_Draco L. Malfoy_

The attached paper read:

_All of the materials listed were indeed found, examined, and confiscated for the safety of the public. Mr. Malfoy was duly fined. File as required._

More pointless paper work, oh goody.

"Hey, honey," Dad stepped into my office looking cheerful as ever. "Ready to go home?"

I'd barely registered that he's entered.

"Honey? Are you all right, sweetie?" He came farther into the room.

Quickly I shoved the letter under the three or four papers left. Mary Ellen probably would have just slowed me down with all her unwanted _help_. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine, Dad, just a long day is all." But then again, weren't they all?

"Well then, let's head on home. Your mother is making a roast with green beans, potatoes, and fresh rolls. Oh! And she's baking peach cobbler for desert too! Wish she'd cook like that every night, but since the Minister is coming for your birthday tonight we can't serve him normal food. Sorry dear, I know you didn't want us to do anything special, but your Mum just couldn't help herself. I don't think she bought any presents, though."

I stopped listening about halfway through his speech. For some reason Dad always talked down to me as if I simply couldn't handle anything more complicated then the weather or tonight's dinner, as if I just wouldn't understand. But then, everyone treated me that way. Ron often patted my head as if I were a dog. Hermione spoke of purely academic subjects: the newest charm for making beds, a new side effect of sleeping potions, the date Rome was conquered, etc. Only _He_ actually treated me like a person…not really a comforting thought.

"Hello darlings!" Mum called cheerfully. "There's just enough time for both of you to shower and change before the Minister arrives. Hop to it!"

Dad leaned over and gave her a light peck on the cheek, but still managed to get flour on his clothes. After that he jumped up the stairs as if leaping hurdles. I, on the other hand, was in no hurry. No one expected me to be on time anyway.

As the shower was occupied, I opted for a nice long, steamy bath and maybe a nap. Mum had a big, claw foot tub installed for her last birthday, but I used it the most. After gathering some lavender bath bubbles and shampoo, I removed my shirt and bra and shimmed out of my skirt and underwear.

The water gushed out, filling the room with instant steam and the scent of lavender. Unfortunately Mum put a no-fog charm on the mirror, and I had nothing to do while the bath filled. With dirty reddish-blond hair, dopey brown eyes, a bump for a nose, and a mouth that wouldn't smile it was hard to imagine anyone would call me breathtaking. They had, of course, when I was younger. Had, as in past tense.

Not malformed or grotesque, many had called me beautiful. After all, most girls and women envied my thin arms, tiny waist, and slim thighs. Fashion dictated that a "beautiful" woman have trim ankles, microscopic feet, small everything, except breasts. However, my skin practically glowed in the dark, and bags hung from my eyes. Everything about me screamed unhealthy and broken.

At long last I lowered my much abused body into the hot, soothing water. And as hoped for, I promptly fell asleep.

_The sun called us all out of the house, and who was I to deny the call. With a smile and a quick look for Mum in the kitchen, I dashed out to our spot. The grass wasn't too dry and bent softly under my feet as I ran across it. He beat me there and had already fallen prey to the sun's comforting warmth. He looked so cute, the wind pushing his hair over his eyes and a book open on his chest. If I'd been some one else, or maybe him, I might have kissed him or something. But I wasn't, and he wasn't so instead I lay down next to him and proceed to bask in the sunlight. The simplicity of the place was nice._

Mum pounded on the door. "I know you're in there Gin! I can smell the lavender in the kitchen! Come out right now! The Minister's going to be here any minute!"

I opened my eyes and sighed. "Yes, Mum." The water was getting cold anyway.

Big, fat drops splashed on the floor as I contemplated skipping the drying spell and tracking water all over the house. But then Mum would be so mad, and I didn't want to hear her little tirade about how "the water will just ruin her dinner" and that "it's all my fault the Minister won't have a good time" and blah blah blah. All of that was just not worth the pleasure of drying off in my own room. Oh well.

"Great," I muttered. Mum had pulled out a light pink top and blue jean skirt. The skirt was fine, all stiff and long, but the shirt—UGH! It clung to ever hollow, curve, any flap of skin, and it wrinkled alluringly in the front! Why would Mum pick out such an outfit? Did she want me to be miserable…on my birthday?

I briefly considered getting another shirt, but then Mum would go on another rampage, telling me I was being "difficult" and "ornery" and that "it would be nice if I would just do as she asked for once". Not my idea of fun.

Then again, this whole dinner thing didn't sound pleasant either. Perhaps I could have pleaded sick—but no, then Mum would have coddled me all evening which would defeat the purpose. Damn, I had to attend.

"Ginny dear, the Minister has arrived, and he brought Harry with him!" Mum shouted through my door.

Was that supposed to encourage me to move faster? Deciding it was, I shoved my arms and legs into the clothes forcefully and threw my hair in a messy bun. I looked pretty sloppy. Why did it matter how I looked? Harry and Spencer were family.

The table was sure fancy. Mum used the good china and her expensive tablecloth (they'd been in the family since her wedding), so it didn't look like a simple dinner with friends. Dad had on one of his smart robes, and Mum looked great in her best floral print sundress. Flowers decorating the living room gave off a light scent and made everything pretty.

I blinked, suddenly seeing a large garden in the midst of a fierce thunderstorm and a warm hand on my back.

"Hello Ginny," Harry said very quietly and very close to my ear which might account for the hand on my back. "You're looking wonderful tonight."

'I hope not,' I wanted to say back but instead smiled and said, "Thank you. Mum certainly did a wonderful job with the flowers. They're amazing.

"I'm glad you like them." He smiled brightly. "She wanted to do something special for your birthday, especially after what happened last year."

"Oh, right." I nodded and thought back to last year, such a long time ago. It had been a huge party. Dad had invited boat loads of people from work, and Mum made enough food to feed a small country for a few months. Harry had even managed to get the Weird Sisters to sing. It was any girl's dream party. But then Dad got called away—something about exploding doorknobs or was it biting toilets?

Anyway, he left, and then Ron started karaoke with Hermione. Those two should never sing again, not even lullabies to their children. The birthday cake exploded covering everyone in red icing. Fred and George were seen lurking nearby at the time. And _he _was there, watching the whole time. Not that I ever saw _him_, but _he _was the only person who could fix such an intense stare on me that I could feel it. And at one point he snuck up behind me and said "Happy birthday" in that low husky tone only _he_ possessed.

"Last year was an utter disaster," I said to Harry.

Mum bustled into the room looking a bit like a peacock ready to show off its feathers. "Dinner is ready everyone," she announced. "Let's take our seats. Yes Arthur, you're sitting at the head. Ginny dear, why don't you sit next to the Minister?"

"Please Molly, call me Spencer." He grinned sincerely at Mum, who blushed. "We are friends."

Spencer wasn't the drop dead gorgeous type; in fact no one called him cute, handsome, or any other word suggesting beauty. Homely is how everyone described him, after, of course, he called himself homely. Most people now just referred to him as friendly. He had this knowing twinkle in his left eye that everyone trusted and a wide smile that everyone loved. It also helped that Spencer united both sides after the war; he was the only Dumbledore to ever be sorted into Slytherin.

We all quickly took our seats and began passing the food around. "So, my angel named Ginny, what have you gotten yourself into lately?" Spencer asked, happily digging into the food.

"Not much," I said sounding pleasant. "Just busy with work and a few other things." Like hiding from everyone and perfecting my ability to be invisible.

Spencer jumped up, knocking his chair over, and clasped his hands over his heart. "You shouldn't be all work and no play, that doesn't let your muse dive into the world of creativity and passion! It is the bane of this country that young people do not express themselves in all that they see, say, and do!"

That was the other thing about Spencer, if someone ever saw him doing what he called non-minister-leave-me-the-fuck-alone-duties, he acted like a child. The prophet used to run articles about his eccentric behaviors. But during an interview he told everyone that the Minister of Magic held a lot of responsibilities, and fooling around helped him deal with the stress. Then Spencer said that if anyone had a problem with that _they_ could be minister for a day to see what it was like. After the first person spent a day traveling around chasing mysterious Voldemort sighting, no one really remarked on his off-duty activities.

"Alright!" I cried. "I'll do something fun this weekend." Perhaps in the Antarctic.

"I've been meaning to take some time for myself too, Ginny. So why don't you and I go to the theater this weekend?" Harry suggested casually.

That wouldn't be anywhere close to Antarctica.

The table was oddly silent as everyone waited for my answer, and I suspected his tone wasn't casual at all. They planned this! Suddenly I felt very angry, but I pushed it back inside. "That sounds like a good idea, Harry. Will you all excuse me for a moment?"

I headed straight for the upstairs bathroom in order to gain control over myself. Anger flushed my face—why should I go out? Nothing ever filled the emptiness, not dating, not trips to the muggle world, not an afternoon with Harry, nothing. Something always felt wrong.

Only my memories would ever fill that gap, but there was a reason I lost them in the first place. I may not remember anything else from that year, but I remember not wanting those memories. Did I really want to go against my younger self's judgment?

The girl in the mirror had no answers, only more questions, and instead of going down that line of thinking I turned the faucet on to wash my hands of it. The cool water rushed over my skin and beaded up when I removed my hands. If only my questions were as easy to wash away as dirt.

By the time I returned to the table, talk had turned to memories of past birthday dinners. Harry was snorting into the last of his potatoes as Mum regaled everyone with the time Fred cursed his own birthday cake. I gladly ignored the happy chatter.

Whereas everyone had practically emptied their plates, I'd only taken two bites. The food on my plate didn't look terribly appealing anymore, and the things in my stomach did not settle well. Besides, I had a bad feeling about this evening.

"Since we've all finished with dinner, why don't we move into the living room for coffee and cake?" Mum suggested amiably.

Everyone rose quickly and hurried to get their cake while I lingered at the table, picking absently at my food. The quiet, alone time was nice, and the chatter from the next room didn't bother me for once. Hermione called it centering my chi, but I called it breathing. It was hard to "breath" around so many people.

After a few moments, I rose to join them in the living room. Mum wouldn't let me abandon company for long, even if I need the time to collect myself. Their chatter stopped as I approached the door, and a new voice echoed through the room, Draco Malfoy's voice.

"I do hope I haven't interrupted anything." That annoyingly calm, controlled voice of his sliced through the air neatly. "I was hoping to discuss a few things with you, particularly about the—"

"Don't finish that!" Harry snarled in a soft voice. "We don't need your charity or your pity."

"I would not offer you charity, Potter, and my pity is reserved for those who deserve." Malfoy said.

They were talking about the ball, and I knew it. But why did they want to hide it from me? It's not like I wanted to go in the first place.

"You didn't tell her?" Malfoy asked losing that superior tone I hated. "Why? It's for her, too! Don't tell me you lot are afraid!"

No one said anything, and I could hear the dirty glares in the silence.

"It's been three years since the war ended. You are still afraid that it will get out?" He paused. "Don't tell me you're trying to shield her from everyone. She doesn't need your smothering protection! She needs to go out!" He shouted getting angrier and louder with each word. "It's time for Ginny to rejoin the world."

"We're trying!" Harry barked back. "But it's not easy you know! She fights every new thing and practically goes mental whenever someone suggests she go out for the evening. It was like pulling teeth to get her to take that job at the ministry! Like you could do any better!"

If their voices got any louder, neighbors in London would hear. My own ears hurt from the noise. Mum must have been simply dying in the room with them.

Malfoy lowered his voice, but it sounded sharper, more dangerous at that decibel. "Do better? She could do better living with a homeless bum! You've coddled her!"

"Yeah, well, if it weren't for you she'd be happy right now!"

What did Harry mean by that? I burst in the room looking for an answer. Spencer stared down at his lap, Mum cried so hard the chair shook enough to fall apart, and Dad had his hands clasped together so hard his fingers had gone pale. Harry had his fist clenched in Malfoy's shirt while Malfoy stood with his foot reared back to kick.

"Stop it both of you!" I yelled feeling angry. How dare they discuss me while I could still hear? "What are you talking about? This wouldn't have anything to do with the war, would it?"

Harry dropped Malfoy and ran to my side looking desperate. "No Ginny, we weren't." This of course meant they were. He put his hand on my arm and tugged gently. "You don't need to worry about this, just go upstairs and rest. Let me take care of everything."

Could he really do that? Harry, defeater of Voldemort, social recluse, a man who cared only for his family and his job, could he really fix this? Probably. Did I want him to?

Without a word I left the room, pretended to tramp up the stairs, but then tiptoed through the kitchen to listen at the other door. By the time I got there, everyone was participating in the conversation.

"I just don't understand. Dumbledore said that when Voldemort died, the curse would be broken, and she would be able to remember again. So why doesn't she?" Mum's voice trembled, and I could just imagine Dad taking her hand in his.

"It's not that simple, Molly," Spencer said in his minister voice. "Ginny has to want to remember, and that's the problem. Sometimes she wants to know what everyone whispers about, why they give her odd looks, but mostly our little Ginny just wants to be left alone."

"She needs to remember," Malfoy said authoritatively. "The time has come for her to accept what happened and move on. This pity party has got to stop, for her sake."

Harry's was the first voice to get loud. "No! She needs more time; she's not ready for what you want. And you'd know that Malfoy if you came around more often."

A fist pounded on a table. "Don't you dare go there, Potter, don't you dare! I stayed away because you said it would be best for her, because you said it might make her remember, not because I didn't want to see her! So don't you dare insinuate that!" The cultured tones Malfoy normally used disappeared in the harshness of his anger for a second time.

"Calm down boys. We don't need a fight right now. What we need is to remember this is about Ginny and what's best for her, not what we want. So let's settle down and discuss this like civilized people." Dad would've made a good negotiator if he'd wanted. All that sibling rivalry helped to hone his ability to diffuse arguments.

"Forgive me, Mr. Weasley; I let my anger control my tongue." Through a crack in the door I could see Malfoy bow respectfully before moving to sit in one of the empty seats.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, still sulking by the dining room door.

"Now, since it is Ginny's happiness, her well being, shouldn't we ask her what she wants?" Spencer asked, putting more of his minister skills to work. "And if I know her at all, she's standing behind the kitchen door listening to every word we've said."

Busted. Spencer was smart, real smart, and I blushed at being caught. But when I opened the door to walk in no one looked angry or annoyed, just tired. They all looked so completely exhausted that a twinge of guilt rushed through me for causing their pain.

"Ginny, darling, Spencer's right. You may either continue to live with your mother and me or, if you like, go to Malfoy Manor for a little bit," Dad said quietly.

I looked at each face, carefully gauging their thoughts while trying to sort through my own, not necessarily the best method. Mum had her eyes closed, shielding me from her thoughts, but Dad obviously trusted I would make the right choice in the end. Harry glared at Malfoy. Clearly he thought I should stay at the burrow; the exact opposite of what Malfoy wanted. And Spencer just looked resigned, but then he never showed his thoughts to anyone.

But what did I want? Quiet: peace and quiet. Malfoy Manor would be secluded, but Malfoy wanted me out of my protective bubble. At the Borrow people would come and go all the time, but I would not be forced to speak with them if I so chose. "Here, I want to stay here." I told them.

"If that's what you really want, sweetie." Dad smiled, secretly pleased I'd chosen home.

"It's the right choice, Gin-Gin." Harry let out a sigh of relief and pulled me into a big hug.

Spencer blinked slowly, releasing the tension. He could face down a threat of annihilation without breaking a sweat, but if someone started the smallest of arguments in his family, Spencer would melt down. Malfoy gritted his teeth and ground his foot in the floor in an attempt to control his anger.

"No," Mum said softly. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but you can't stay here anymore."

**See! I did get a chapter done, and don't worry, you won't have to wait like two months for the next one either. I have the whole story written out now. It just needs to be edited, typed, and beta'd by my friend, which will take about two weeks I think. But don't hold me to that, I am starting College on the 19th! Yea! Go me!**


	3. Chapter 3: Rules, Roses, and Role Models

**Chapter 3: Rules, Roses, and Role Models**

"What?" Everyone, including Malfoy, said in complete shock.

"I'm sorry Ginny," She repeated, actually looking a little sorry.

I couldn't believe it. My own mother, the woman who brought me into this world, who cherished and loved me, who carefully tended every scrape and bruise, wouldn't respect my wishes and wanted to just kick me out. How could she be so cruel? So heartless? So un-motherly?

"Why?" I finally choked out.

"Because he's right, Ginny. It's time." Mum closed her eyes, and her face scrunched up in pain. I refused to feel sorry for her. "You can't keep living this way. You're just a shadow of yourself, and I can't watch any longer."

"But-but—" Harry stuttered. "I thought we agreed, Ginny could choose where she wanted to live."

"She can." Mum opened her eyes and pierced me with an honest stare. "You can live anywhere you want London, bath, you could even go to America if you wanted! Just not here." Her reasoning became clear. She really thought this would be best for me; she agreed with Malfoy.

He put his hand on my arm and gently extracted me from my families embrace. "I can help you," He whispered. Where else could I go? The bum suggested earlier didn't sound pleasant, but would Malfoy Manor be better? "I can teach you how to cope with your loss."

There was no choice in the end, nothing else I could do but accept. "Thank you, Malfoy."

"It's not a problem." Malfoy didn't smirk at his victory, but neither did he frown in irritation. It was actually a bland expression of nothing. "I'll wait while you pack."

What had I just agreed to? "You want me to leave tonight? Right now?" He couldn't possibly expect me to pack up everything and leave straight away.

"I'm here now, so if you come with me now, I won't have to make another trip." Malfoy said slowly as if I might not understand.

Well, if he could be detached about all this, then so could I. "Just give me a moment to collect my belongings," I sounded painfully pleasant.

"Just one pair of clothes and something to sleep in, Miss Weasley. We'll go shopping tomorrow for some more suitable items."

"Right." I nodded, trying not to feel insulted. Could this night get any worse?

Up in my room, I found only one small bag to pack in, but then I didn't care all that much for most of my things. A few muggle books and my doll, Lucy, along with the clothes were all I really wanted. The bag weighed practically nothing, and I wished I could truly live with that little baggage. But then the idea of actually living out on my own frightened me, and I took the wish back.

Before I left, I took one last look around my room, at all the toys, clothes, and books from my past. For three years it had been my sanctuary from the outside world. A tear slipped from my eye at the same moment that I saw it, a small bit of white hidden behind my jewelry box.

It was the last gift _He_ had ever given me, a white rose dipped in an everlasting potion. A hand offering the gift was also the only memory I had of that damned year. Why it persisted when all other memories disappeared, I didn't know, but I'd always kept the rose. At the last minute I shoved it in the bag next to Lucy.

Ironic that it should be white, a symbol of purity. Maybe I should have dyed it black. But as many times as that though had occurred to me in the last three years, I'd never acted on it. Maybe that's why the rose sat in the corner, collecting dust far out of my sight. If I didn't see it, then maybe I wouldn't remember it either.

"Alright," I said with confidence as I looked everyone over, daring them to challenge me. "I'm ready."

Mum and Dad nodded with grim resolution, but didn't say anything. Spencer had his hands clasped tightly on Harry's shoulders, the only thing keeping Harry from dragging me back up to my room. Poor Harry, he took the whole thing a little too hard.

"You come and visit anytime." Harry said, and Spencer's knuckles turned a little whiter. "I mean it, anytime."

He looked kind of cute like that, all riled up and upset, just like Ron.

"Come on, Ginny, it's time to go." Malfoy held out his hand, and I took it in one smooth motion.

His hand closed carefully over mine, as if trying to protect something without looking obvious. Long pale fingers worked their way until they comfortably separated mine. And the unfamiliar warmth of being held seeped easily into me. Such kind hands.

That was the last thing I remember from the Burrow, not my Mum and Dad holding each other tearfully or Spencer's acceptance or Harry's longing eyes. No, I remembered Malfoy's hands and how they protected and held onto me.

A loud crack and we arrived at Malfoy Manor. "Don't try to apparate here without me. The wards are keyed to my magical identity so you wouldn't be able to get through. In the morning we can talk about the rules of the house and such."

I did listen as he continued on, but I was a little distracted by his totally huge house. With white stone walls, wide glass windows, and at least three stories, the house looked as if he'd conjured it out of one of my books. It looked like a fairytale.

And the garden! Versailles couldn't have been anything compared to the tiniest bit I could see, glowing in the moonlight. One of the flowers that we passed by was on the verge of blooming, but still not quite sure if it wanted to join the world. A mix of red and purple, it was truly one of a kind, that flower.

"Ginny?" Malfoy gently jerked me towards the house. "We have a big day tomorrow, and you'll need to be well rested for it."

Without a second glace back, I followed him into the house. It didn't matter if I stayed outside or went in, I wasn't going to sleep well anyway.

All the lights were off in the house, except for a few candles lining the foyer. The flickering light cast long shadows through the already dark room. To anyone else it would have looked cold and uninviting; to me it looked wonderful.

"I usually tell the elves not to bother me after midnight." He waved his hand at the emptiness. "Let me show you to one of the guest rooms." With a certain grace that only came with practice and inbreeding, Malfoy ascended the marble staircase in from of us. "Well, come on, you don't want to get lost."

I scurried clumsily up after him. "I never imagined Malfoy Manor to be so-so—" I trailed off in search of the right word.

"Luxurious? Big? Clean? Dark? He suggested, sounding mildly amused.

"No, comfortable. I don't think even my own room felt as safe as here."

"No one has ever said that, not even my father's closest friends... He preferred to strike awe and fear into those who stayed here. Even I have only just recently begun to think of this place as home." The shadows hid his face.

For a little while longer we continued down the hall with only a single candle for light. The shadows moved and whispered to one another as we passed by, as if wondering just why their master had brought such a person into their domain. But I did not feel alienated as some many others must have. Instead it was like a rather strange homecoming, perhaps because in the darkness, I didn't have to face my fears.

Malfoy paused in front of a set of double doors. "You may stay here. Just to the left of the doors is a pull cord if you require any assistance. Good night, Miss Weasley, pleasant dreams."

Someone must have designed the room specifically with me in mind. It had white walls and furniture, just like in all the classic mansions, but everything else was either a deep purple or black—my favorite colors. A canopy bed stood in its own little alcove surrounded by black gauzy drapes that parted as I approached. Silky purple pillow cases and sheets, a comforter made with goose feathers and tiny black flowers embroidered on it, I couldn't ask for a better sanctuary.

"_I have a surprise for you." He whispered in my ear and wrapped his hands over my eyes. "I hope you don't mind, but as you've spent so much time here—"_

"_Silly!" I laughed, and the wind caught the noise, carrying it all over the garden. "Of course I won't mind. I never do!"_

_The wind blew through the trees, teasing new buds and pulling my hair out of the braids I'd spent so much time on. It had just finished raining; the dirt smelled so clean. An overwhelming scent of roses reached my nose, just blossoming roses._

"_I read that if we tend them with love, a white one just might bloom." _

"_That's only a myth!" I laughed again._

_He removed his hands._

_A thousand roses climbed through the garden, one thousand generous red and pink roses. They covered everything in the small grove, the trees, the grass, everything._

"_Oh my," I gasped. "It's—it's wonderful!"_

"_I—I hoped you'd like them." He whispered once again in my ear._

"_This is exactly what I needed." I sighed happily and leaned against him. "You are the bestest friend ever."_

_His hands tightened around my waist._

"Miss! Miss! Oh please be waking up Miss!" a squeaky little voice chimed from outside the black gauze. "Miss! Oh! Master is not being very happy now."

The little house elf danced back and forth between her two very short legs and wrung her hands impatiently. It looked very curious tinted black from the gauze. And for a moment I considered letting her dance some more, but that seemed too cruel.

"You don't need to fret too much; I'm awake now." I pushed back the blankets and stepped out into the room. "See?"

"Oh no!" She became even more distressed. "Miss should have wakened Lilla, then Lilla could have found Miss something proper for sleeping. Oh, Lilla is very bad, lazy, stup—"

I clamped my hands across her mouth. "Lilla, I'm like Malfoy in that I don't like to be bothered after midnight either." I stretched and padded across the room in search of my bag. "Oh yea, call me Ginny, not Miss. Where did I leave that bag?"

"This one, Miss?" Lilla asked, holding it up as if it were a priceless gem."

"Oh…yea…"

Lilla quickly opened it and pulled out my scruffy jeans and raggedy tee-shirt. "Miss mustn't wear this! Master is not liking clothes like this! Let Lilla find better!"

"No!" I said harshly and snatched them from her grasp. "I like my clothes." I probably said the words with more force then necessary, but they had the desired affect.

"Of course, Miss," She said meekly with her head bowed down.

"Umm, Lilla? Could you, uh, perhaps—"

"Miss must be very modest," Lilla said with a little giggle. "I will go over there, if you likes, Miss." And then she marched over there, still giggling as I pulled the rough fabric over my head. "Master waits for you in the Breakfast Room."

"Thank you, Lilla." I shimmied into the jeans. "Uh, where is the Breakfast room?"

She smiled at my lack of knowledge and took my hand, sort of like the people who felt sorry for me, but not quite. Lilla just grinned up at me, happy to be useful. "Come with me, Miss. I is going to the Breakfast Room too."

Surprisingly, Malfoy was not seated at the head of the very large, obviously expensive, antique dinning table. But then, neither did I expect him to lounge in his chair, the muggle funnies spread across his lap and a half eaten bowl of Fruit Loops in front of him. It all looked so out of place in the classically decorated room, not to mention with Malfoy's reputation. Who would have thought the Great Malfoy ate children's cereal and read comics?

"Miss Ginny is arrived, Master Draco." Lilla gestured to the chair across from him."

But being the ornery person I am, I chose the power seat, the chair at the head of the table. "Good morning," I said cheerfully as the elves stared, horrified.

Malfoy dropped his spoon in his lap. "Miss Weasley, you startled me," he said slowly while carefully looking me over. "An interesting choice of seats, I thought you might be more comfortable more towards the middle as you don't seem to care for attention. Clearly I was mistaken."

"Clearly." I sipped carefully from the orange juice, only vaguely aware of Malfoy's scrutiny.

"Let's go over the itinerary for the day, shall we, Miss Weasley?" He asked politely enough to put me on guard.

"Of course." Just what was he up to?

"First we must visit my tailor; I have a special order for him. Then off to Madam Milkins for a few every day things," He rambled on a bit, and I zoned out, more interested in the toast then his schedule. "And my hairstylist. Then we'll break shortly for lunch before an appointment at the beautician's. Afterwards, we will return to the Manor for a private meal, and the rest of the evening will be yours to do with as you like." How could he look so damned royal while eating Fruit Loops? "We'll leave immediately after breakfast."

We? Who said anything about a we? He just assumed I would want to follow him around all day! I jumped out of my seat, outraged at his impertinence. "You've got to be kidding! I took off work to follow you around while you have your hair done? I refuse to do it; I have more important things to do!"

"Sit down, Miss Weasley," He commanded. "You will not be following me around as you have stated. These are appointments for you, and I expect you to be civil during them as well."

The chair squeaked as I fell into it. "What? You made appointments for me? Why? I'm not your own little—little dress up doll! I won't do it." I crossed my arms and glared at him. How could he do such a thing? How could he know if I even wanted to do such things? If I did, that is, which I didn't.

He calmly wiped the milk off his upper lip with a cloth napkin. "I'm afraid, Miss Weasley, you don't understand the conditions you must abide by if you wish to stay in my home. You don't have a choice. As long as you live under my roof, you will obey my rules, of which you have already broken many. I was willing to look passed those transgressions, but I will not tolerate rudeness."

Anger fumed inside. How could he make such rules without telling me and then tell me it's my fault I broke rules I didn't even know existed? "I'm leaving." I pushed the chair back.

"You are, of course, free to do so, but if you leave my house Miss Weasley, you will have to make your own way in the world, by yourself." Malfoy stood genteelly as if this was not an argument but a rather enjoyable exchange of pleasantries. "The choice is yours Miss Weasley, so choose carefully." And he smugly left.

So what was I to do? Malfoy wanted me to take on the world, one way or another, by myself or with him pushing me onward. Not much incentive on either side. What would it be like, to live on my own, with no one else to rely on, unable to hide away? What would it be like to have my every breath watched and carefully scrutinized?

'It's time to stop running,' a voice said inside me. 'It's time to see what we can really do.'

But what if the world just chewed me up and spat me back out? What then?

'Would Malfoy really be so heartless as to make you face it alone? It's time to face the world.'

"Miss Weasley, if you is staying, you is going with Master now, to the Leaky Cauldron," Lilla squeaked and pointed towards the door.

Damn that inner voice of mine.

With a deep breath, I walked out into the foyer where Malfoy stood waiting. "Tell me the rules, please."

He grinned and motioned towards the door. "Well be taking the carriage; apparating is a bit too much of a bother. The rules can all be summed up by the first one, which is simply that you are now a Malfoy goddess and should behave accordingly." The happy face disappeared, replaced by something far more serious. "There will be no more childish outbursts like the one you just had. None. Do you understand me?"

For a moment I considered spitting out a one word answer, but that was not what he wanted. If I wanted to survive this day, it would only be by turning my future over to him. "Malfoy, despite my earlier behavior I am quite capable of behaving like an adult, and today is obviously all about me being one." There, it was a promise to be mature and open today. Of course, tomorrow was a whole other day.

"I suppose that will have to do." Malfoy helped me to my seat and then quickly sat down. "Now, the next rule."

During the trip to Diagon Alley, Malfoy regaled me with the other five hundred and eighty-two rules, all of which could indeed be summed up by his goddess lecture. The whole list was rather tedious, involving things like proper decorum and appropriate dress.

But the whole conversation wasn't completely useless; there was one section that caught my attention. Under the 'Conduct with Others' category, I was allowed to be as mean and nasty as possible as long as it was said in a courteous manner. After all, there is no greater insult then one that isn't understood.

The carriage stopped before a tiny pink building that looked as if it had been decorated in spun sugar, lots of sugar.

"Before we go in," Malfoy said slowly as if still trying to pick the right words. "I have to ask you not to say anything about Reggie's masculinity."

We stepped out of the carriage the same time Reggie stepped out of the pink cake masquerading as a house. It was entirely possible that he had more muscles then two men times two! If he had put a shirt on it probably would have exploded the first time he twitched.

"Oh my god!" Reggie squealed in a very deep voice. "She's so—so—"

I winced in anticipation of his insult, for it could only be an insult. Ugly, dirty, gross, or worse, Reggie just might have said beautiful. If he dared to say beautiful, I would get in the carriage and refuse to come out. Liars were the worst kind of people.

But I got off lucky.

"Well, it doesn't matter much what she is now, soon she's going to be To Die For!" Reggie grabbed my arm and pranced into the house with Malfoy laughing as he trailed behind. "Now, prepare yourself to be Reg-ified!"

The house should have exploded; it was just physically impossible to fit that much fabric into such a small place. Cotton, silk, polyester, jean, more fabrics then I could ever name covered everything in the house. It looked like somebody had spilled an awful lot of paint on all the furniture and the carpet, and the paint hadn't fried yet.

"Stand here!" Reggie commanded picking me up and dropping me on a rotating disk. "I'm thinking crimson, mauve, midnight, royal, and pink."

Malfoy nodded, paying careful attention to everything Reggie said while still sorting through the fabrics. "I was hoping you would create something she could wear to one of my balls. It's a week from Saturday, and several very influential friends are planning on attending."

"I'm booked up for months." Reggie said crossly. "I could never do it."

"I said influential, wealthy, but I think I forgot to mention French." Malfoy continued picking through the floor.

"The French?" He sounded excited, and I started to worry. "Do you think I could finally break onto that market?"

"Of course." Malfoy looked up. "But she'll have to have it a week from Saturday."

This sounded like I was about to become Reggie's personal Barbie to be paraded before a bunch of judges!

"And I suppose you already have something in mind for her, don't you?" Reggie grinned knowingly.

"Of course," Malfoy's smile spelled disaster for mer. "Beneath those bags, Miss Weasley does actually have a body, one that is very—well, you'll see when you take her measurements."

And without further ado, Reggie removed everything but my underclothes. "Great, could this day get any more embarrassing? I thought it might be okay, but no, you had to go and remove all my clothes!" I grumbled a little loudly and very unhappily.

"Got a bit of attitude on her too." Reggie grinned.

Malfoy sniggered and then looked me over. "Not all of them, he did leave a few items behind." Malfoy gestured towards my bra and panties. "Although, you probably know that they really don't hide all that much."

I crossed my arms and glared at him. How dare he insult me in this state! I considered putting him in an equally embarrassing situation by removing a certain piece of his anatomy and then displaying it in the Leaky Cauldron. But I wasn't given the chance.

Reggie had measuring tapes covering every inch of me from the distance between my eyes to my waist line to the length of my smallest toe. Off to the side a quill recorded every number in neat precise rows.

"I do hope you're going to feed her." Reggie said, glancing down the increasing line of numbers. "She's a bit on the anorexic side. Put some weight on this girl!"

I was suddenly struck with a series of images involving chocolate, strawberries, whipped cream, and an awful lot of Malfoy. And based on the look on Malfoy's face, he was having many of the same thoughts.

"Not like that! Ewww! Too much hetero sexual tension! Get your minds out of the gutter!" The poor tailor shuddered in disgust. "I just meant she could use a few more pounds on her." And then he shuddered again.

"You're just jealous because I'm getting some and you aren't." Malfoy smirked. "You could try a girl and pretend it was a guy." He suggested mildly.

It didn't seem possible, but Reggie's eyes grew twice as wide, and his mouth became a pencil thin line. "I would never resort to such measures." With an angry flourish, he held up a drawing for me to see. "What do you think, Miss Weasley?"

A headless figurine paraded back and forth across the paper showing off the master piece Reggie had just created. "It's just a quick sketch of course," he said nervously.

The dress had one strap over the left shoulder and a crooked hem at the bottom. The hem flared out around the left knee before trailing down to do the same around the right ankle. Reggie had also designed a pair of shoes; the right was a plain red slipper. The left, although the same around the foot, laced up the leg in that same scandalous red.

"Oh! I couldn't possibly wear something so—so—" My fingers caressed the beautiful creation, oddly aching to feel the real material instead of the coarse paper. "My family would never allow me to wear it."

"No matter how much you want to?" Malfoy asked peering closely at my face. "You do like it, don't you?"

"It's amazing, simply divine, but what would people think if they saw me in this?" He wouldn't really ask me to do something so outside my reputation, would he?

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, a goddess doesn't care what others think. If Lilth (1) cared what others though of her looks, don't you think she would have changed her demonic form? Or what about the Valkyrie(2)? She appears as a raven. No, a goddess does not worry about the trivialities of what others think." I expected the lecture to come from Malfoy, but it was Reggie who rebuked me.

"Lilth takes the dark and from it makes beauty. The Valkyrie is an example of how crucial darkness is to growth. You need to be like Amphitrite(3) and calm your inner storms, or mold yourself after Hel(4) and see the truth." Reggie cupped my face in his hands.

"I don't remember what the truth is anymore." I admitted honestly.

"That's why you need to calm your storms or find your center, harmonize your chi, whatever you want to call it, so that you can know the truth. No one can tell it to you, you have to know it."

"Persephone(5)," I smiled. I always liked her the best, the goddess of the soul. "If only I understood my—" I closed my eyes and thought of all those dreams that felt so real. Could they be the truth I was seeking? If only I could remember _him_, could figure out why _he_ appeared so often in my dreams.

"Come on," Malfoy put his hand on my arm. "If we linger any longer, we won't have time to eat lunch."

"Right," I said, vaguely aware of things like the fact that my clothes were back on or that Malfoy was oddly silent.

_He_ would have loved the whole scene with Reggie; _He_ loved it when unexpected people did unexpected things.

Notes: (1) **Lilth** is a Middle Eastern goddess of abundance, fertility, and fecundity. She is associated with the owl, a figure of darkness and deep wisdom, for she is also the goddess of death and transformation. She is sometimes represented as a demonic figure, for her dark wisdom and her sexual energy can be very threatening. She is known to appear as a frightening figure in dreams. Lilith is associated with the lotus, and the symbolism of that flower tells us much about her. The lotus, an exquisite flower that grows out of dark, rank, decaying earth, represents spiritual unfolding and the blossoming of the heart of wisdom. Like the lotus, Lilith challenges us to look upon our dark side and incorporate it into our wholeness so that our great beauty can blossom forth.

(2) The **Valkyrie**, a northern European goddess, is a representation of this goddess as death wielder. The name means "chooser of the slain" and represents that part of us that is unafraid of the dark places; she can lead us into and through them. She reminds us that seeds germinate in the darkness, that some times we need darkness in order to grow.

(3) **Amphitrite** is the ancient Greek Triple Goddess in her guise as ruler of the sea. Just as Amphitrite can moderate the winds and the sea, we can learn to calm the waves of our inner storms.

(4) **Hel** is the Norse queen of the underworld and an embodiment of the divine mystery, a challenge to look behind the mask of appearances to see things as they really are.

(5) **Persephone** is the goddess of the soul, for it is in the darkness of the underworld that the soul is formed. In the Orphic mysteries, Persephone granted wisdom to the initiate, for she is the goddess if a dark, uncomfortable wisdom, a goddess of dark and frightening power. Persephone represents the ability to rule over the aspects of ourselves that are terrifying in the extreme.

**Just thought you all might want to know why I picked those goddesses and what they all are in charge of. I took the information straight off ofthe Goddesses Knowledge Cards and the text were written by Michael Babcock. If you disagree, you disagree with him not me. These definitions justhappened to work with my story.**

**Unfortunately I am now a poor college student suffering from homesickness. The lack of friends and family around to support me in my endevers has proved to be detramental to my mental capacities. Now, I must go looking for a computer on which to type, as I have none of my own anymore. Not only that but my finanical stability is also of great concern. There's nothing else but to admit the truth, your loyal, faithful fanfic writer has recently become depressed. And as we all know, depression can lead to major problems in a fanfic writer, the biggest being writer's block. Only you, my wonderful readers can cure this problem. Hearing from you has always lifted my spirits and spurned me on to greater and more lengthy endevers; I do so hope that you shall continue to review (with greater fervor) so that I may continue to write.**


	4. Chapter 4: The war, the mirror

Chapter 4: The War, the Mirror—the War in the Mirror

Madame Malkin's was the same as ever, with lots of clothes for all people, styles, and prices. Malfoy pulled out a long list and quickly scanned the whole thing. Then, while I stood at the door looking like an idiot, he spoke in low tones with Madam Malkin herself. Boy did I feel stupid.

"All right," He said, and we left for the hair salon.

He dragged me over to a huge building with a blow drier and a pair of scissors on the sign. That's when I closed my eyes.

"Not afraid of a little haircut, are you?" Malfoy said, his intonation rising in a taunt.

For a moment nothing happened, except his stupid smirk probably got bigger, at least until I beat him over the head without opening my eyes. "I simply have no desire to see just what sort of monstrous things you have in mind here."

"It's just a hairdresser."

I cracked open an eye to find the door. "With you, it's never just anything."

After that, I opened my eyes for walking, lunch, and nothing else. Gentle fingers, the rustle of foil, or even the snip of scissors, none of it could coax me to open my eyes. Malfoy didn't even try, as if he knew it would only harden my resolve.

The beautician wasn't nearly as astute. "Dear girl, you simply must open your eyes! How else will you pick the colors you like?"

A muffled giggle came from the direction I'd last heard Malfoy. "Look, I really don't want to see what you do to my face, I know how to apply make-up, and Malfoy here can pick out the appropriate colors," I told the snotty woman. "All I want to do is sit in this chair by myself."

"Well, I never—"

"Will you give us a moment please?" Malfoy asked coolly, inciting my rage. She must've left because his voice whispered in my ear. "You are simply astonishing, Miss Weasley. The tone, the gesture, and the attitude were perfectly royal, but your body, your appearance is something deserving of personal attention, rule number one hundred and twenty four."

"Yes sir," I mumbled, feeling like a surly child, and started to open my eyes.

But he covered them with his hand and said in a soft, almost loving tone, "I'd hate to ruin the surprise now, after so long. It can wait a little longer."

Was he actually being nice?

The snippy woman returned, and with her the afternoon passed in a flurry of brushes and powder. Malfoy stood close by, selecting shades and styles. Though the situation was uncomfortable, it wasn't unfamiliar. Large portions of my adolescence had been spent covered in make-up. And with Malfoy watching over I felt surer of myself, more like the me from Hogwarts.

When we returned to the carriage to go home, Malfoy broke the silence. "I thought you did well today. After what I'd been told, I expected you to pitch childish tantrums or glare death threats at every new idea."

I didn't say anything, too surprised at the flurry of emotions inside me. At his words, I expected to feel angry, but that was small and fleeting. A tingle of happiness rushed through my veins followed quickly by a lingering touch of confusion. I was happy that I'd done well, but confused at why I wanted his approval. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Malfoy helped to alleviate some of my discomfort. He got me to think about other things like anger or pride or role models instead of my fears.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't exactly tactful," He murmured.

"But true." I sighed. "You remind me of someone, someone very important to me." It was something _He_ would have done, teased and cajoled me into a better mood. It felt familiar.

"_Don't you get tired of being so righteous all the time? Even Ron gets tired of it. Or are you determined to be the virgin sacrifice?"_

"Ah, the mysterious 'Him.'" Malfoy actually made the quotes with his fingers. "I wondered when you'd bring him up.'

"How did you find out about _Him_?" Only Harry knew!

"Please, Potter and I do talk civilly on occasion. Not terribly often, and as I recall that conversation ended in a rather physical disagreement, but it has happened." He looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember something important about that particular conversation, but then shook his head.

The carriage stopped just as he ceased pondering whatever mystery remained lock-up inside of him. "I didn't know you and Harry ever spoke to one another."

He stood up and opened the door. "Doesn't surprise me; after all, I don't go around telling people ever time Potter and I speak. Oh yes, tomorrow you report to work again. Sleep well, Miss Weasley." And he left, walking quickly into the house.

I watched, mindful of his rapid steps and his determination to get into the house—away from me. This revelation should have upset me, but I found it just a little bit cheering. I wasn't the only one running away from something.

Somehow, I managed to find my room, although in reality it wasn't that hard to locate. With the information overload, I feared I wouldn't remember something so simple. The house elves had brought in all the purchases, except the ones from Reggie (his wouldn't be ready until Thursday or Friday next week). Boxes and bags lined the walls with mathematical precision, completely opposite of Mum, who tossed everything on the floor before collapsing on the couch.

"Oh, Lilla wasn't expecting Miss so soon. Lilla thought Miss would dine with Master." She wrung her hands, and I briefly wondered if she had a nervous disorder.

"Calm down Lilla, it's not a big deal." She looked really funny the more panicked she became; I probably shouldn't have laughed. Oh well. "Could you just bring me a tray for dinner? I don't feel like leaving the room."

"Lilla should have thought of that! Lilla should have realized Miss would be too tired to dine with Master. Lilla will get clothes!" She finally burst into tears, which caused me to absolutely lose it.

I clutched at my sides slowly slipping down the wall as I lost control over my legs. Tears welled in my eyes, falling in fat drops, and I laughed. The sound rolled out so easily, so naturally, and lasted for a long time.

"Is Miss dying?" Lilla asked, peering into my face.

"No, Lilla." I gasped for air and control. "No, but you have got to be the funniest little house elf ever."

"Why is Miss saying that?"

"Because I can't remember the last time I laughed, and it feels really good." I smiled down at her embarrassed face. "Really, it's a good thing. Trust me; you won't get clothes."

Lilla grinned sheepishly back. "Perhaps I is being more funny from now on."

"Sounds good." She was definitely an odd little creature, maybe that's why I felt as though I could relate to her. "Now, can you show me the bathroom?"

"Certainly, Miss." Lilla pointed to a door close to the sleeping alcove. "Through there."

It was a big bathroom with a huge bath and a mirror for a wall. For a moment I closed my eyes, afraid to look, but I couldn't hide forever. A familiar stranger stared back at me. Her pale skin accented by a light blush, dark eye make-up made the eyes bigger but more mysterious, and her hair—it had been long, very long reddish-blond locks. Now, the light highlights were gone replaced with black that really darkened the color. I guess my hair was still kind of long; it fell a little past my shoulders in an interesting wave. The bangs fell every which way, but most especially into my eyes. It definitely looked mysterious.

This new woman looked like a goddess, but not like me. There was that elusive bit of familiarity lurking in the mirror. Was it the mischievousness in those brown eyes? Or perhaps it was in the saucy way the hips curved? Or maybe it was that air of confidence that surrounded her…me.

I looked at the luxurious tub, my original purpose for entering. A bath would have soothed away the physical pains of the day, the aching in my feet and lower back. But that would mean spending more time with the woman in the mirror. How could she be me? How could someone that—that—put together, that in control be me? I could never be that self-assured. But wasn't that what Malfoy wanted? Wasn't that his whole purpose of taking me shopping? Did he think I could do it?

'That's enough of that.' I thought and left the bathroom quickly, hoping to leave the stranger behind too.

I fell on the bed, absolutely exhausted from the day. But then, who wouldn't be with all that change? For once, I actually slept through the night without waking up at all or having any strange dreams. And the morning turned out to be actually sort of pleasant.

I woke early, determined to get to work before anyone else so that they wouldn't see me or say anything stupid. Lilla had left an outfit on one of the chairs, a long-sleeved black shirt, my long denim skirt, and a pair of black heels. She'd left a note from Malfoy on top of the ensemble as well.

_Miss Weasley, I hope this outfit meets with your approval. I asked Lilla to put out something you wouldn't abhor. Good Luck Today, _**D Malfoy**

_P.S. Don't forget the make-up._

What a kind gesture. I was stunned enough to put the make-up on like he asked. Nothing fancy, just some brown eye shadow and lip gloss. Lips gloss was actually kind of nice, definitely something I could get used to wearing. I also pulled my hair back with some clips. For once I looked presentable.

Not many people were at the ministry when I arrived, just a few Aurors and the desk clerk, no one I knew. Perfect. The pile on my desk wasn't near as large as it should have been. Had Mary Ellen done something nice for once? When I glanced through the pile I noticed the different forms: Voldemort sightings, melting cauldrons, an incident of socks that ate the wearer's feet, all things that required multiple forms and obscure filing.

Mary Ellen probably just felt too lazy yesterday—or some cute guy came in, and she spent too much time flirting. Stupid chit. At twenty-six that girl should know that work is more important then her sex life. I certainly did, and I'd just turned twenty-one.

Despite the aggravating work, the morning passed quickly and quietly as I filled out the forms and filed them. Lilla packed me a lunch (smart little elf), so I worked straight through the traditional lunch hour. It was nice to feel productive in the office. Maybe it had something to do with the full night of sleep or actually looking presentable for once, but the day felt good.

Mary Ellen giggled obnoxiously outside my door. "Don't you worry; I'll make sure she gets this right away." I flinched at her high voice and tried to ignore the noise by focusing everything on the form in front of me.

Until _His_ voice came through the door, low and sensual, shattering my concentration. "You do that, and maybe I'll drop by again."

What was _He_ doing at the Ministry? Was _He _looking for me? My imagination was running away from me. Obviously _He_ had business that brought him, probably needed a meeting with the minister. Yea, that was it, a meeting with the minister.

"Gin, you doing alright?" Mary Ellen asked, concerned by my absurd look of shock. "You look a little pale, did something happen?" I couldn't answer; shock had frozen my tongue. _Him_. Here. At the Ministry! "Here." She stuffed an envelope in my hand and left. "Crazy girl, can't even answer a question."

**Miss Weasley **was scrawled across the envelope in _His _tidy hand. Carefully I opened it and read the letter.

**Luv, check the restricted files, section between Bottomless Butter Beer and Crazed Candied Canines. The file is unlabeled. **

Before I could even make a decision to go, me feet had moved down the hall, my lips had whispered the password, and my hands had turned the door knob. Technically, I was supposed to get clearance from the Minister to enter the Restricted Files. But after the third time, Spencer told me if I ever asked about "that damn room" again, he would shoot the wizard who'd come up with that stupid rule. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was Fudge. Since then, though, I'd never asked permission.

I found the file with no trouble at all. It was a little frightening to think that this crucial piece of paper had been so carelessly filed. Or did someone want to make it nearly impossible to find? Slowly I opened the folder and stared at the paper inside. The bold faced type was as dull as the words were amazing.

**The following is the true account of Miss Ginevra Weasley's involvement in the betrayal of the Order of the Phoenix. **

**On the night of Thursday the third of June, Miss Weasley was charged with the initiation of a new member into the Order of the Phoenix. She left the headquarters promptly at 9:15 for the rendezvous point, but she never arrived. Somewhere between High Street and Butterfly Boulevard, she was attack and abducted by Deatheaters. Sources differ— **

The folder landed with a gentle pfft on the dusty floor.

_It was dark, more so then usual for early June, but I wasn't afraid. Dumbledore wouldn't send me on a dangerous mission—no one, not even he, would willingly face Mum after disobeying a direct command. (Except maybe for the twins, but even they had trembled before her fierce wrath.)_

_Footsteps echoed off the buildings around me, but I paid them no attention. Things were always echoing in muggle London. And besides, if someone was following me, it was probably those teenagers I saw a couple of blocks ago getting high on a street corner. After all, this wasn't a dangerous mission, just an initiation._

_Eventually the footsteps trailed off leaving me alone on the street. I breathed a little sigh of relief. It was my first job, and I wanted to excel. And muggles finding out about the war, breaking the secrecy laws, anything like that would certainly ruin my goal._

'_Everything is going great!' I thought as I fingered the slip of paper in my pocket. 'Mum let me go, Dumbledore trusted me with something important, even Harry was excited when he found out I had a job. Everything is working out just the way I planned it!'_

_Then they hit me over the head. As my vision clouded over all I could think was, 'Dumbledore, Mum is going to kill you.'_

* * *

"What were you thinking, Malfoy? That was the worst thing you could have done! She might never wake up! Or don't you remember what the St. Mungo's people said?" 

"Oh, please," Malfoy said casually. "She'll wake up when she's ready. Those Healers always give worst case scenarios. Besides she looks fine, so keep your pants on Potter, and stop treating her like an invalid."

"You—you—you—"

"Threw water on her?" He suggested mildly.

Smack!

"Was that a challenge, Potter?" Malfoy laughed mockingly. "You know the Minister has forbidden us to duel."

"You arrogant self-centered prick! How can you just stand there and make jokes at a time like this? She might never wake up and then what? Are you going to explain it to her parents? It will be entirely your fault and all because you're a Selfish Bastard!"

I peeked open an eye just in time to see Malfoy grab Harry by the robes and hoist him about three inches off the floor. Harry had his hands around Malfoy's neck, and they were both turning purple. If I hadn't been so afraid one of them might kill the other, it might have been all very funny. They both looked so wild and murderous, Harry's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and Malfoy snarling with viciousness any predator would envy.

Malfoy threw Harry up against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Harry let go of his neck. "Don't insult me, Potter! Ginny will wake up. Just because—"

"Enough boys!" Spencer shouted. "The fighting has got to stop, for Ginny's sake. Malfoy, what you did was stupid. Harry, what's done is done. Now, there will be no more foolish attempts to wake her. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," they both grumbled, and I quickly feigned unconsciousness. There would be time later to think over the strangeness of their conversation.

"Good." It suddenly reminded me of a conversation between Mum and the twins. "Who's going to watch over her until she wakes?"

Several muted grunts filled the air before Malfoy finally said, "I'll leave" in a very angry and childish tone. The door opened and shut with a loud bang.

"Don't antagonize him, Harry. It's not fair to Ginny," Spencer said quietly before leaving as well.

Harry paced the room anxiously, his footsteps echoing like the ones from my memory. I thought about opening my eyes to relief some of the tension, but then he started talking.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. This is all my fault. If I'd only protected you better, watched over you more, none of this would have happened."

What was he talking about? He couldn't protect me from everything, especially not if I didn't wanted it. I used to be a very ornery girl; he should've known I wouldn't accept his protection even if he'd offered it. Which, I think he did. Even Mum couldn't keep an eye on me all the time, and she had the best chance. My life was my own series of mistakes, and no one else could take the blame.

"This is all my fault. If only I had paid more attention, spent more time with you, if only I'd bothered to care! Then none of this would have happened, and you'd be happy."

What? How could he know that? No one knows for sure what the future holds. All those hours with Trelawney should have at least taught him that! At Hogwarts, I was content to be with my friends, the boyfriend of the moment, and those I'd deemed worthy. I enjoyed my classes and spent a lot of time chatting with teachers. I was happy. And nothing he did, in my memory, had caused me any pain or joy. Other people just didn't have that effect on me.

"We never should have let you join the Order."

That was going too far. Time to end his little pity party; I groaned and fluttered open my eyes. "Harry? What happened?" I asked, pretending to be clueless.

He threw his arms around me in a crushing embrace. "Oh Ginny!"

He fell for it, just like every other time.

Nobody questioned my desire to go home, and Harry only protested a little when he realized it was Malfoy Manor I meant. Spencer never asked what happened or why I was in the restricted files to begin with. I think he probably knew. And Malfoy didn't give me that look that demanded I explain myself, like I had expected. In fact, he didn't look at me at all.

"Here," he said and shoved a pile of papers in my hands before grabbing my elbow gruffly and apparating the two of us home. It was an odd sensation, like I'd done something so horrible no one could speak of it, the unfortunate story of my recent life. The whole situation was only made worse by the fact that I didn't know if remembering was bad or not. Certainly the memory wasn't a good one, but did that explain why I felt guilty? The silent treatment always bothered me the most out of all the punishments I'd gotten. Couldn't someone just yell at me, instead of treating me to that damned silence?

Once in the foyer he dropped my arm and hurried off to another part of the house, as if it was too horrible to touch, as if I was contaminated. For a moment, I stood there unsure of what to do. How could they leave me so alone? But then I carefully climbed the stairs. Hiding in the comfort of my room sounded like an excellent idea as no one apparently wanted to see me.

I suddenly felt five again, and I'd just called Ron a mudblood at dinner, right in front of everyone. No one explained it to me, Mum just sent me to my room, and no one spoke to me for the rest of the evening and well into the next day. Coincidently, I didn't find out what the word meant until I overheard Hermione discussing it.

The papers in my hands were reports marked 'Priority', but I couldn't sit down and finish them. The events of the day needed to be sorted through before I could do any thing. And besides, my eyes buzzed and my head stung. Or maybe it was the other way around?

Would no one explain what I'd done?

Dumbledore sent me on a mission, and along the way I was kidnapped by Deatheaters. Okay, so far they couldn't really fault me. It wasn't like I asked to be kidnapped. Did the Deatheaters torture me? Did I cave and reveal classified information? They didn't turn me into a Deatheater; I didn't have the mark. Did I see Voldemort? Did I want to know?

When I looked up in a mirror, a stranger stared back. She challenged me to find the truth with her endless dark eyes. A desire to be treated like everyone else lingered in the creases on her forehead. And yet, I wanted to forget everything, to go back to my simpler existence.

The mirror could try its tricks on someone else, someone more vulnerable. I knew what I wanted!

**Okay, so now I'm a little upset with Fanfiction...I had all these cool fonts and everything for people's handwritting and stuff...but I couldn't get them up into the story! So you have to deal with the less cool version...and I'm upset about it...sniff sniff...**


	5. Chapter 5: A Reign of Chaos

**Lookie! An update! Are you guys proud of me?**

**Oh! I forgot, somebody revieweda couple chapters ago and wanted to know why Draco calls Ginny Miss Weasley. It's because he doesn't "know" her well enough to call her Ginny, but it would be to distant to call her Weasley. Does that make sense? was anybody else confused by it? I hoped I cleared it up for those that were. Thanks!**

**Chapter 5: A Reign of Chaos**

"Miss Ginny! Miss! Miss Ginny!" Lilla called loudly. "Master says if you don't get up now you will be late for work!"

I jerked up and immediately felt every muscle from my neck to my lower back protest heartily. But then I probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on my desk. It hurt an awful lot.

"Shit!" I scrambled around, pulling on clothes and stuffing papers in a satchel simultaneously. "I can't be late!" If I was late again, I'd be fired and have to find a new job!

"Miss! Miss! Calm down Miss!" Lilla shouted. "I is getting papers together while you is getting properly dressed."

"Thank you, Lilla!" Trying to relax, I pulled off the navy blue sock and found the matching black one. I located my other black boot and threw on a red scarf. Lilla handed me my bag and I apparated to the Ministry.

"Running late today, Ginny?" Mary Ellen asked as I rushed passed her desk. I flipped up my middle finger in response. "What?" But I'd already moved down the hall to my office.

When was the last time I'd given someone the middle soldier salute?

Just as I plopped down in my chair and started sorting through the endless papers, Mary Ellen appeared in my doorway. "Did you get those reports finished? They're needed in Muggle Affairs, like, right now." She crossed her arms and looked irritated, probably at my finger.

For a moment I considered a snappy retort. She'd only given them to me because she was too lazy to do them herself. But I reigned in that desire.

Then I realized just what she'd said. The reports, the ones I fell asleep completing! There was no way I got them all finished! I fished around in my bag, stalling and considering my options. Admit the truth? Give them to her half done? Give her the finger again? Pretend I'd left them at home?

"Oh, here they are!" She cried with exuberance. I closed my eyes with dread. "Wow, and you got them all done, too. I'm impressed." But she didn't look it with the little wrinkle on her forehead, and she sounded disappointed to boot.

"Uh, thanks," was all I could think of to say. Somehow it seemed inadequate.

"Well, I'll just run these over to your father so he can get them to the courtroom on time." She flounced out, and I was grateful.

This had to be the other half of my punishment for remembering. Mary Ellen must have been charged with the task of making my day miserable with her damned presence. Maybe I'd strike it lucky and she'd get waylaid in the hall.

It seemed like I put the quill to the paper, blinked, and hours passed. Somehow the time between eight and eleven thirty melted away into nothing. I liked it when time flew that way because I didn't think, and not thinking was good.

Someone knocked briskly on the door, and I breathed a little sigh of regret. If I pretended not to hear, maybe they would go away. At least it wasn't Mary Ellen, she always barged right in. The stranger knocked again. If it wasn't Mary Ellen, then who was it?

"Come in," I called out hesitantly.

Mum peeked in. "I didn't know you had your own office, and it's nicer then your father's first office was too. They must really like you here."

That or the higher ups wanted to keep me out of the way. It was one of the two, and if I had to pick I would've picked the latter. "Thanks Mum, but what are you doing here?"

A little blush spread across her cheek bones, and if I wasn't paying attention I might have missed it. But why would she be embarrassed about that question?

"I thought you might like to go out to lunch with me, my treat," she was tempting me, knowing I could never pass up on food.

And suddenly everything was like it was before the war—happy and relaxed. How could I resist that temptation, to disappear into the past? "Sure, but my treat, I've got the gold."

"Are you sure, dear?"

What else was I going to spend my money on? "Absolutely, you just name the restaurant." When she smiled, at the risk of sounding clichéd, the whole world brightened with her. It was like a dirty film had been removed from my eyes, and I could see the light again.

"I have been wanting to try that new stew at the Leaky Cauldron." The worry lines on her face disappeared, and I realized just how heavily the burden of my problems weighed on her. The fact that they did trouble her shouldn't have shocked me, she was my mother after all, but I didn't want anyone to worry about me. My problems were just that, mine.

"Well let's go then; we don't want to get caught in the lunch hour rush." I did my best to sound happy and cheerful. And surprisingly, the more I tried, the more it became true.

Together we walked down the hall and out past all the other secretaries. It was the stunned silence that made me realize it was a mistake to leave my office and walk out in front of everyone. One of the girls, I didn't know her name, asked in a very quiet voice, "Is that Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes," Mary Ellen said dejectedly. "That's her."

"But she's so—she looks so—so—"

I could really learn to hate that stutter. "Excuse me." I turned around and faced all the girls in the room. "I would appreciate it very much if you would not stutter when talking about me." Anger coursed through my veins, anger that they could just sit there and stare at me. "Look, I'm not some kind of freak, okay! Don't stare at me like that! And Mary Ellen, if you're going to pride yourself on your deep understanding of me, then share your discoveries with the other girls. Don't worry, I can handle the rumors." If I got any angrier I would start throwing things, and Malfoy wouldn't like that.

* * *

Mum put down her spoon and lifted her cup to her lips. The warm cider steamed, causing her face to blur and reminding me of my childhood delusions. She was the one I went to when I needed to cry or didn't understand something. She protected me when Fred and George tried to get me to eat that mud pie, when Bill and Charlie wanted to practice growing charms on me, and when Ron spent all of his time obsessing over my boyfriends.

Quickly I shook those thoughts away. It wouldn't do to lose all of my composure now to old memories. But they were wearing me down. A whole flood of memories had been bombarding me with unwanted emotion since we'd entered the Leaky Cauldron.

I clunked my own cup of cider down on the table and finally admitted defeat. "Do you remember coming here just after Ron left for his first year?"

"Goodness yes, you found those gaudy red shoes and wouldn't stop talking about them for weeks." She laughed lightly, and I grinned too. "And then for months you'd say things like 'as pretty as those shoes' and 'this tastes as good as those shoes looked.'" She frowned and looked thoughtfully into her mug. "But then suddenly you stopped, and we never heard about the shoes again. I've always wondered why." She pinched her eyes together in confusion.

For a moment I didn't say anything, as if not speaking of it would mean the bad times never happened. "Ron told me I could either have the shoes or go to Hogwarts. I just wanted school more than the shoes." Ron had stripped away a little bit of my innocence then; I never forgot that we didn't have money for frivolous things like shoes.

"Oh," Mum said softly, both of us remembering the time when money had been less plentiful. "He shouldn't have told you that."

"Maybe, but I'm glad he did." Her words annoyed me. I might have only been ten, but I deserved to know the truth. "It was true, wasn't it? I don't like being lied to, not then and not now. I used to wish that you had told me, because then I wouldn't have spent so much time wishing for something I couldn't have." My words smothered the conversation.

"You were so young that it didn't seem fair to burden you with the harshness of reality. I just wanted to protect my little girl," She whispered. "It's so hard sometimes to let your children grow up, because then they get exposed to all the bad."

A pinch of guilt rose up in my throat. Why did I have to bring that up? "So, umm, why did you invite me out to lunch today? Any good news from the home front?" How about any other topic?

She looked down at her lap and smoothed out her dress, and I realized I'd asked the wrong question. "Oh, everything's fine, just the same as it was last time we talked."

Everything except me, that is. That's the reason she asked me to lunch. "Did Harry tell you to? Is this supposed to be a pick-me-up after yesterday?"

Her silence practically answered the question for her. "Harry and your father did mention it to me, but neither of them would think of something like a mother/daughter lunch."

"So why come?"

"We were worried about you, even Malfoy. Harry went on a rant about how we needed to bring you straight home, and your father went out to the garage to look over his plugs or something. And I just wanted to talk to my little girl. It's so hard for us, Ginny, to see you struggle along, not really happy and not able to make yourself happy."

"Stop it, Mum," I said faintly, revealing more emotion then I meant to. Why did everyone have to care so much? I was just fine, perfectly fine, so why did they want more for me? Happiness could cost a lot.

"I guess you're not so little anymore." Mum reached across the table and fiddled with my hair. "For all his faults, no one ever accused Malfoy of not having style. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Mum." What else could I say; she was genuinely worried after all. "We'll have to do this again sometime." I was surprised to realize I meant it.

"Of course, dear." She let go of my hair. "How about next week?"

* * *

"I knew it!" Mary Ellen squealed. "That little loser, she's skiving off this afternoon and leaving the rest of us with all her work!"

No one else said anything, and for a moment I wondered why. They all normally agreed with her or wanted something more to gossip about, and surely they hadn't seen me. I hadn't left the hallway yet!

And then everything became clear.

"For your information, Miss," Malfoy's voice froze the room with its glacial tones, "Ginny Weasley went out to lunch with her mother, and before you say anything else detrimental to her reputation, the minister approved of this meeting."

Of course no one would want to encourage Malfoy's wrath. At least no one with more brains then Mary Ellen.

"Mister," Marry Ellen mocked him. "The minister always turns a blind eye when it involves the Weasley family, especially Ginny. How do you think she got her very own office? Just because she lost her memory during the War is no excuse to treat her any differently then the rest of us."

I banged my head softly against the wall in shame. There it was, spoken truth that the ministry and probably everyone else in the world did not treat me like a normal person. If only I could have recorded it.

"You're right." An eerie warmth crept back into his voice. "It's no excuse at all. I'm sure the minister won't mind at all if I tell him about all the trips you make during office hours. He might find it interesting to know just how many times you come back late from lunch, or I could tell him about your little habit in the supply closet. Don't bother Miss Weasley anymore."

Why was he protecting me?

His sure footsteps led him straight into me. "Hello Malfoy."

"Hello Miss Weasley, how was your lunch?" He asked politely as if he hadn't just threatened Mary Ellen.

"Just fine, thank you." I nodded a farewell and marched purposefully back to my office. My head felt ready to explode.

* * *

I was more then ready to leave when the clock struck five. The afternoon didn't pass as well as the morning had. Several of the other secretaries paraded in and out wanting to know about my sudden transformation and wanting me to know they didn't all think like Mary Ellen. But I knew better; they just wanted a chance to probe for gossip material, not that it took much to get the rumor mill up and running.

By the end of the day, I'd heard no less then five rumors on my new appearance. Cloning, the imperious curse, and brain transplant were among the more popular ones. No one even got close to the truth, that appearances could be deceiving, that I was the same girl on the inside. When five o'clock rolled around, I was out of there.

Lilla was waiting at the apparation point. "Master is having guests for dinner tonight at eight and requests that you attend with rule number one in mind." She hopped back and forth on her feet, but I didn't think much of her nervousness.

Damn that rule. Be the inner goddess—my ass. "I shall do my best." I smiled painfully. In fact, damn all those stupid rules, damn them straight to hell!

Apparently Malfoy had a whole lot more in mind then just dinner: he had a whole damn outfit! But I put on the scoop neck green shirt that practically fell off every time I shrugged. The skirt was semi decent, a gauzy black that fell to my knees, and for that I was thankful. At least I liked the scrappy little black heels he'd picked out. They almost made the rest of the outfit worth wearing.

In retaliation, I wore my own jewelry, gold hoop earrings and a black satin ribbon. It all matched so he really didn't have room to complain, and I got to wear something of my own.

"Uh, Miss, don't be forgetting your makeup Master says," Lilla said in a frightened voice. "I think he—"

One glare and she shut up. "Lilla, at this point in my day, I couldn't care less what Master wants. I want to shove his stupid requests up his giant ass!" I flipped away from the mirror. "Can you help me with this?"

Lilla nodded and began to wield the mascara wand with stunning skill. "You is beautiful, Miss, more beautiful then Mistress Malfoy."

From her, the words actually sounded like the compliment they were intended to be. "Thanks Lilla." How could that little thing calm me down from a murderous rage with one sentence?

There was a knock on the door. "Miss Weasley? Lilla? Master says the guests is arriving and you is to go to the drawing room."

Lilla and I exchanged nervous glances, and I began to chant in my head rule number one, rule number one, rule number one, over and over again. This evening could not end well, not after how it started.

I didn't know exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the sight that greeted me. Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint, Vincent Crabbe, and Millicent Bulstrode, among others, milled around the large room. They had struck up their own little private circles and conversations while waiting for their host. Great, and everyone all looked so dressed up and high class, so unlike me.

"Weasley? What on earth are you doing here?" Pansy asked with more snot in her voice then her nose.

Rule Number One.

"Well, believe it or not, Malfoy invited me to stay with him for a little while." I smiled brightly enough that it might have passed as sincere. "But then, I'm sure you've all enjoyed Malfoy's abounding generosity."

But judging by the shifty looks they gave each other, they hadn't. "Well, of course we have. Draco never skimps when it comes to friends and family." She lied.

I won round one.

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" Malfoy appeared in the door. "You look wonderful Miss Weasley. And of course, stunning as always, Pansy." She practically beamed as he kissed her hand. "Shall we head to the salon for hors d'oeuvres?"

This was awkward.

Malfoy led the group with Pansy on his arm, but he'd offered it to me. She just latched on without thinking, or maybe she wanted me to trail behind with the others. Perhaps it was revenge for my earlier comment?

Rule Number One.

"It's been such a long time since I've seen any of you, I almost didn't recognize you," I said, trying to sound hostess-like. "What have you all been up to?"

They shot me a bunch of dirty glares while whispering amongst each other. Awkward was an understatement. This evening was going to be hell on earth. Lovely, just lovely.

"Oh, Ginny knows all about that. After all, she was Professor Snape's favorite student," Malfoy said, inviting me into his conversation.

I might have joined in too, if Pansy hadn't shot me the glare of death again. I was thoroughly dissuaded from participation, but the invitation was thoughtful. "I believe I'll just go see how dinner is coming along." If Mum could use that excuse, then so could I.

But this dinner party, I simply couldn't do it. No one in their right mind would even think of it. A bunch of Deatheater's children and an honorary Dream Team member would never in a million years find something in common. And to put us all in the same room was as dangerous and stupid as telling Harry and Malfoy to "play nice." It was doomed to fail from the beginning!

What was he thinking?

"Miss? What is you doing here? You is supposed to be with Master and Master's guests."

I opened one eye and then the other very slowly; Lilla stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. "I can't do this. I'm—I'm going to bed. It was a stupid idea to begin with."

"Oh no, you is not! You is going back in there and you is making everyone wonder why they is never liking you to begin with. You is dazzling them!" Lilla could get very persuasive when riled. "You is telling them dinner is almost ready and that you is very sorry but house elves is needing all the help they can get!"

"Yes ma'am," I said meekly.

"Good." She toddled off, leaving me to face my death bed alone. Well, nothing to do but march in there and die with my head held upright. "Sorry, I'm so sorry about that, but you know how house elves are. They simply won't do anything unless someone watches every move."

Pansy smiled, but her eyes hardened. "I know exactly what you mean. They're simply impossible."

And that's how the rest of the evening went. It was one gigantic uphill battle, and Pansy sat at the top throwing rocks at me the whole time. But I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of giving up, not again.

Throughout the hors d'oeuvres I told amusing stories about Fred and George and their newest products. Through the soup course I listened as Millicent gave us all a detailed account of how her cat finally died. I told them all about Harry's triumphs in Quidditch during the salad. Draco looked bored at all this, but I caught Pansy paying attention when I told them all how he was nearly decapitated by another bludger. During dinner Draco regaled us with a tale about the Minister and a little old lady who refused to cross the street. I chuckled quietly into my sweet potato soufflé, remembering how beaten Spencer had looked after that incident.

Everything turned around in the middle of desert. Millicent turned and asked me if it was true that Mum made the best cheesecake, which quickly turned into a discussion of the best ingredients. Marcus Flint insisted that the next time she made any we'd have to send him a pie as it was his wife's favorite desert and his elves just never got the recipe right. I promised we would.

"Well, that went well." Malfoy said, shutting the front door.

"Finally!" I mumbled, relieved that the end had come and Pansy couldn't glare at me anymore.

"You could have been a bit more friendly with Pansy though." Malfoy carried on as if he didn't know I wanted nothing more then to escape to my room. "I just know that if the two of you found some common ground, then you'd be the best of friends."

"Friends? With Pansy Parkinson?" I clutched at the banister to keep from falling over in gasping laughter.

"What? It's not that far fetched."

"Friendship with Pansy is as likely as my falling in love with you." I continued to hang onto the rail.

He didn't say anything, but fixed me with a hard stare. I'd handled every other kind of look anyone could give. But there was something else in his eyes, not pity or sadness, not glee or delight, and definitely not horror. It wasn't like anything else people looked at me with, and the longer he stared the more uncomfortable I became.

"Umm, you know, I haven't seen or heard anything about your parents. Where are they now?"

Thankfully he blinked, and the look was gone. "Well, my father's rotting away in Azkaban. He was convicted of muggle torture just after I—" He broke off to cough. "Sorry, anyway, my mother got really sick and died a few months later. But you—" He had another coughing fit, and I patted his back a bit. "Thanks, your mother was kind enough to send me care packages—your family was very supportive."

For the first time I paused to wonder just why my family trusted him. It wasn't like he'd ever done anything to redeem himself for our Hogwarts years, but even Harry didn't call his motives into question. "I don't remember any of that." And why couldn't I remember it?

"Of course not," Malfoy said with a hint of depression in his voice. "I'm surprised you even let me within ten feet of you, what with you not remembering and the fact that I'm the son of a Deatheater."

Why did I let him in? Was it just because my family trusted him? But why did they? I stepped back and took everything in. He looked so vulnerable, so desperate for something. "You're not evil, at least not anymore." Another familiar stare. "Stop looking at me like that, as if I'm some sort of anomaly! My family trusts you, Harry trusts you though he'll never admit it. I've seen the reports, the ones you send weekly to Spencer. I might have lost some memories, but not my whole brain. My family trusts you."

"I should have realized you'd figure some things out by yourself." Malfoy tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. "I'm terribly sorry; I've just done what so many others do, underestimated your abilities."

"Sometimes I think you overestimate them." I chided him. "I didn't think I'd actually survive dinner tonight. You and Harry do that." We climbed the stairs slowly, and it felt comfortable.

"What was he doing at your house that night? Doesn't he have a flat of his own?"

"He does. It's this tiny little thing and probably dirty as hell right now. He stays at our house a lot during the off season. I think being alone brings back bad memories of the war." A brief shudder passed through me. "And my parents like having someone else in the house, makes them feel useful."

"But you don't." We'd reached my door, but he held tight to my arm. "Don't deny it. You don't like having people in the house."

"I wasn't going to. No, I don't like it, not even when it's just family. People poke and pry at things best left alone. People want answers to things I don't remember. People cause problems." I sounded harsh, even to me. Malfoy wasn't like everyone else who just wanted good gossip, but that didn't mean he needed to ask the same questions.

"I'm terribly sorry for this evening. It didn't go as I'd planned; Pansy was more obstinate then usual. But you were magnificent. Good night, Miss Weasley."

He left me standing at the door as my emotions swam about, causing more chaos then ever. The girl in the mirror came back, her expression mocking me. Her challenge to find the truth stood as demanding as ever, and this time I wasn't so sure I didn't want to find it.

**Okay, I have a question. Are there any serious writers/english junkies/probable editor wanna-be's out there who would like to beta one of my non-fanfiction stories. I would like to get a fresh view on it, but want someone who is serious about writing. Just put it in a review if your interested, or drop me an e-mail. Thanks! Allychik6**


	6. Chapter 6:Closing an Open Door

**Okay guys, here it is!**

**Chapter 6: Closing an Open Door**

Mary Ellen left me alone for all of Friday, probably too afraid I would go complain to Malfoy and then she would get the boot. She did flinch when I had to walk through the main room, which I can admit I did so frequently. It got a little old by mid-afternoon though so I stopped.

Without that distraction my brain felt strapped from all the things that had happened, and the dreams were becoming more frequent. My head ached something awful and I laid it down on the desk in hopes of a few moments of blissful nothingness.

"_You can't run from everything! You can't run from this!" He shouted at me._

"_I am not running from it! I wouldn't even if I wanted to! This is just stupid. They're my parents, and I will tell them when the time is right!" I yelled back at him._

"_That would be right now, you dimwit! They deserved to know the minute it happened and yet you've been keeping it a secret from everyone for weeks now!" He crossed his arms and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, that wasn't right of me. It's just hard to watch you grow up and join the Order." He still looked hurt, and I felt guilty at keeping that secret from him._

"_But you of all people must have known I would join the moment I could. You must have known that I would do anything to be in the fight." I reasoned._

"_I should have, especially after all the conversations we've had about the Order." He sighed and started pacing back and forth. "It's just hard. I just want to protect you, to keep all the bad things as far away as possible. War will strip you of all the innocence you ever had and more. Just be careful, you're the only one keeping me sane now. If I lost you, I don't know what would happen, to me or your family. Please, be careful."_

_I cupped his face in my hands, needing to feel him as much as he needed to feel me. "You won't lose me. Dumbledore said he wasn't going to send me on anything dangerous, and that it was probably more important that I remained at Headquarters to keep everyone's mind at ease."_

"_Well, it never made me feel much better that you were here, the worst place for an attack. Just promise me that you'll be careful."_

_I smiled at him. "Of course, but you have to promise too, okay?"_

"_I promise." He smiled back._

"_Ginny, darling, you have to understand how your mother feels. The whole family now really is in the Order. She always thought you would be the one to escape all this madness, the one she wouldn't have to worry about. But now you've gone and joined behind all of our backs. We just worry about you is all, we just worry." Dad patted my shoulder a bit and looked over a Mum as she sniveled into Lupin's shoulder._

_I felt guilt for making them worry, and then anger that they worried so much. It wasn't like I couldn't take care of myself. I'd fought in battles before. Didn't they know I would join? That I'd be compelled to join the fight?_

"_Look at it from my perspective, Dad. I have to fight. I was destined to join this side ever since I got involved with that Diary. I fought in the Ministry in my fourth year. I joined D.A. I've been here at headquarters every summer. I've listened to everyone make stupid plans all the time. I fought in Diagon Alley. I simply can't not join." I insisted._

_Mum burst into more tears, and Dad stared at his shoes. "We don't want you to be involved, Ginny," Ron said from his own seat across the room. "We want you to be safe."_

_My hands clenched, and my knuckles turned white. "Don't you see? I'm already involved. I already do all the things you guys do; I'm just not an official member! You can't keep treating me this way! I—"_

"_It's her bloody choice. She's an adult now, and she can make her own mistakes." He growled from the corner. "Stop smothering her. It's about time she learned to stand on her own feet."_

The first thing I realized when I woke up was that my headache had disappeared. But the dreams were coming more and more and worse and worse. It seemed every time I closed my eyes there was something there, just waiting for me to let my guard down. And it was terrifying.

It was so much simpler before. Maybe if I could just talk to Mum again, like I did when I was younger, like I did at lunch earlier this week. I was honest with her, honest with myself. She aroused emotions in me that I hadn't fully acknowledged until that moment.

Maybe she could help me realize just why these dreams kept on coming. But they weren't just dreams, were they? Repressed memories? A week ago I woke up from something fabulous and couldn't remember it an hour later. Now? Now, I couldn't remember what happened yesterday, but that dream from two nights ago wouldn't go away.

Mum could help; she could help me figure out why Malfoy brought out all the—the memories. Something tingled at the back of my mind, something about Malfoy, something about lunch. He'd mentioned it to me and to Mary Ellen! And he shouldn't have known about it either!

I'd just come back; there wasn't time for me to tell him. And he'd said something about Spencer approving of it too. How could he know all that, unless someone told him? Perhaps Mum had felt the need to ask his permission, since he had taken control over my schedule. But then, she never asked permission for anything.

At lunch it had seemed like someone suggested some mother-daughter time to her. The reports I didn't finish that night, I distinctly remember starting the third and feeling very tired about halfway through it. But it was finished the next morning. Who would do such a thing and why?

"Is there a problem?" Malfoy leaned casually against the door frame. "I certainly hope not, or Lilla might scold me again. She seems to have this idea that she's your mother. When I tried to explain that you already had one, she got all defensive and started mumbling threats under her breath."

I shook my head at him and then smiled. "What's the dinner plan tonight?" That was it; I could see it now.

"Well, every Friday, Tinky likes to make a five course meal and insists that I dress accordingly for it. It's much better food then what we had last night. You don't have to come if you so choose, but it would please Tinky, and me, if you did."

"Couldn't hurt, could it?" My mind was working quickly. Of course it wouldn't hurt, me anyway.

He smiled brightly and it looked real for the first time. "Only if Tinky decides to make sweet potato soufflé again—it tends to be a bit on the explosive side. Shall we?" Like a true gentleman, he offered me his arm, and we walked to the apparation point. "Dinner will be at eight." He said just before apparating.

Immediately in the house he turned down another hallway, leaving me with the impression that he was fleeing something. Only a man afraid of something would walk that fast and with that kind of stride. But what could he be running from? And why did I suddenly feel so very alone?

"Miss, would you like to take a bath before dinner? To refresh you from work?" Lilla appeared at my elbow leading me up the stairs. "You look a bit stressed."

"Yes," I said in a hallow voice, my brain still stuck on Malfoy. Just why had he done all that stuff?

Lilla filled the bath with my favorite scent before quietly closing the door and leaving me to myself. Slowly I disrobed and once again critically assessed my body while the bath filled. My limbs were still small in a rather unhealthy way, but my skin no longer exuded the essence of death. No longer dull looking, my brown eyes actually had a quirky little glint, and one corner of my mouth turned up to form half a smile.

Could a few life-like dreams have that much of an affect on a person? Or had something else made the difference?

"_You're so odd." I said to him without ever looking away from the clouds. "Where do you come up with stuff like that?"_

"_I saw it on a poster in a muggle school. But really, think about it; Knowledge is power, and doesn't power corrupt? Should you really be doing all that studying?"_

_I laughed. "You do know I'm not studying, right? This is definitely not something academic. Hermione gave it to me."_

_He leered at me. "That's just education of a different kind."_

"_I'll have to remember that for the next time Mum catches me reading a trashy romance."_

_We both lapsed into a happy silence. It felt good to lie out in the sun as if we had no cares or worries. And when it was just the two of us, we really didn't. When the sun shone so brightly and the wind played gently with my hair, it was awfully hard to remember we were fighting a war._

_For just a moment I closed my eyes, devoting all my attention to the sounds and scents of this place. The grass rustled, and the birds chirped occasionally. I could practically smell the sunshine as it rushed down to coat everything with goodness. That might just be what kept away all thoughts of the war._

"_You know something else?" He said softly._

"_What?"_

"_It's only since I started spending summers at the Burrow that I've spent my leisure time outside. And it doesn't feel odd at all. Sometimes I wonder just what I did before." A sad note crept into his voice._

"_Really?" I rolled over to look at him only to realize his face was less then an inch from mine._

My head shot up only to fall back down again as my backside slid across the bottom of the tub. "Oh shit!"

"Miss! Miss! Are you all right?" Lilla banged on the door. "Miss?"

I rubbed the back of my head gingerly. "I'm fine, Lilla, just bumped my head is all. Owww."

"Okay Miss, Master says you have an hour until dinner."

"Thank you, Lilla." I grabbed the nearest towel and proceeded to wipe away all traces of the water. Maybe a bath was a stupid idea; it was starting to bring out those stupid half dreams.

Lilla had laid out a classy, black shirt and a cream, knee length skirt. With a touch of mascara, a bit of black eyeliner, and a good drying spell I looked sophisticated enough for dinner. And there's nothing like a good outfit to make a girl ready to conquer the world, or at least one man.

If only I could find the right damn pair of shoes, the kind made for walking over anything. Shoes always made the outfit. There, sticking halfway out from under the chair just where no one would look, were the stupid things. I quickly pulled on the sling backs.

But when I stood up, I had to sit down again. It's not everyday one looks up to see a doll laughing. And Lucy was certainly laughing at me from her spot on the dresser. It was the kind of laugh that lingered in the eyes long after the noise had faded. She laughed as if she knew what I was going to do, as if she had seen this sort of thing before. Her eyes seemed to scream that my plan wouldn't work, that it would all come back to haunt me.

But that just might have been my own worries showing through. She might have been laughing at the sight I made crawling around on the floor, mussing up a good skirt just for a pair of shoes. Even as I thought about it she seemed to shake her head no and laugh just a little harder.

I growled and pushed her off the dresser.

Malfoy stood as I entered the dinning room. "Good evening, Miss Weasley. I hope you enjoyed your leisure time this afternoon." He gestured to the beautifully set table. "Shall we take our seats?"

Obviously he didn't treat all his guests equally as Pansy had told me. "Thank you." I smiled at him, feeling a bit like an actress but not quite ready to play the part. Lucy was still laughing at me. "I hope your time was spent enjoyably as well."

"Yes, I finally had time to finish Wuthering Heights." He didn't expound, and I took the extra time to ignore the cackling in my head.

We both started the meal with a light bowl of soup and equally light conversation. It surprised me, but I found the trivial topics interesting, probably because they had very little to do with reality. And Malfoy was very knowledgeable on the mundane. Something about the whole thing felt real, and I had to fight to remember my mission.

"And then Spencer told me that poor Fudge actually spilt the coffee all over himself." He chuckled, and I saw an opening.

"Speaking of Spencer," I tried very hard to sound casual. "Don't you think it's about time he got married, settled down with a few kids? He'd make a great dad, don't you agree?" It sounded too rehearsed.

"Sure, but I don't think he's looking for a wife right now." Malfoy said mimicking my casual tone, but I could hear the suspicion in his voice.

"You're right, of course. I was just thinking that he did an excellent job stopping the argument between you and Harry the other day." That was when everything started so why not begin the conversation there?"

He stared at me, almost in shock but not quite. "So you heard that," He said the words with brutal honesty, revealing the melancholy he seemed to carry around everywhere. It sounded as if he'd been carrying around a great secret, one so great he couldn't stand to keep it from the one person not meant to hear it.

"Did you suggest to my Mum that she take me out to lunch? And what about those reports I didn't finish that night, did you write them? Why did you defend me in front of Mary Ellen and everyone else? Why do you do all this and still run from me?"

I needed to know the truth far more then I needed my sanity. That was why Lucy mocked me. She knew that this would be the night everything came out into the open. She had seen it all before.

Malfoy stared down at his plate for a moment before beginning to speak. "For all our differences, Potter and I do have a lot in common, far more then most anyone would guess. We both have a sort of hero complex, although no one really notices mine. We both have someone we want to protect more then life itself. We both want to help you, to bring you out of your shell." He looked like a little boy caught helping the sister he said he despised.

"Why?" I asked, more confused then ever, and yet something deep down told me I already knew the answer.

"That's simple." He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Why? You were the only one who let me prove my worth. Everyone else either accepted me or didn't. Ron and Potter will never accept me as one of them, and your Mum pulled me into a big hug the minute I showed up at headquarters. But you bothered to find the real me."

After that little speech, his sudden silence startled me. Malfoy wasn't the type of man to make heart felt confessions or let emotion into any action. He looked up at me with unveiled eyes that held me frozen in the moment. His stare drew me into a world that felt so familiar but at the same time alien. It was as if he were revealing everything in that single gaze.

What could I do when faced with all that?

I ran.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, I ran. Out of the dinning hall, through the foyer, past a group of house elves, and up to my room I ran. A thousand images raced through my mind, a bright sun, a bottle of shampoo, roses, a dance of passion, a boiling cauldron, the dark mark. Everything swirled around; something inside of me had broken.

I collapsed on the carpet before my bed, a heavy weight on my chest, my breath short, and tears on my cheeks. My body shook beneath the heaviness of his confession, the burden of his emotion. How could he hide that much inside, away from anyone's sight? Everyone seemed to know just what I felt. How could I answer the worry and fear in his eyes? Especially when I couldn't handle my own? How could he care so much while I remember nothing?

Quickly I pulled off the damn black shoes and threw them across the room at Lucy. How could everyone hide so much from me? I pulled my knees up underneath my chin, locking up my fears and refusing to look Lucy in the eye. "How" didn't really matter much in the long run, only what.

What was I going to do now?

Run? It was certainly doable, I'd run from the things often enough before to know. But I wanted to run from his tangle of emotions, from mine, and the more I pushed Malfoy away, the more persistent he became. Then with his persistence came his reasons for pulling me out of my safe shell, came hope and happiness, came memories.

Perhaps then the answer was to not run, and then that would in fact be a way of running. But even so, when I obeyed his foolish rules and acted like a goddess, the memories came.

Besides, nothing could shield me from his eyes anymore. And all of the emotions there, swimming around in those deep silver orbs brought up something else, brought up _Him._ But not so much _him_ as the longing I felt when thinking of _him_. _He_ was a missing part of me, as missing as those damn memories. Or perhaps _he_ was missing because I was missing those memories. Either way, something in Malfoy's—it was like looking in a mirror. His unknown desire matched one of my own unattainable longings.

He and Harry had things in common, but nothing could come close to the things Malfoy and I shared.

There was a knock on the door, and for a moment I just sat there and stared at it. But the knocking persisted. Suddenly it hit me, someone, not Lilla, wanted in, and I scrambled to get the door open.

"I'm terribly sorry for barging in on you like this Miss Weasley." Malfoy stood stiffly, and his voice had returned to his normal cold and stilted tones. He didn't look me in the eye.

"What can I do for you, Malfoy?" I asked as soon as I recovered from shock. We were back to the norm, no attachment, no emotion, nothing.

He visibly gulped, and I briefly wondered what for. But no, detachment was far too appealing for me to ask what bothered him. "I, uh, I request that you remain in your room until Lilla comes to wake you tomorrow morning." Tone brisk, stance sturdy, I could neither question nor deny his request. But I couldn't help wondering why. Once a door opened, could it really be shut again?

"Of course, it is your home, and I am but a guest."

"Good night Miss Weasley."

"Good night."

A strange melancholy tune filled the air, lonely, but not sad I realized. Only someone who's been alone for a long time could be not sad about such a thing. And as I sat on the bed, listening, it dawned on me that the music didn't wake me, but rather started the moment I woke. The low bass notes rumbled into something deep in my stomach, something hot and desperate for company. It burned and roared more and more the longer I remained still. The eerie notes called to me as no other piece of music ever had. It pulled at something I had buried away long ago.

But maybe that wasn't the reason I disobeyed Malfoy and left my room. Perhaps the reason I left had more to so with the strange dream I couldn't remember and the pain of vulnerability that came with it.

Either way, I still left.

The music wafted through the halls, an unending cry of loneliness. I followed it blindly, literally with my eyes closed in concentration. Every part of my being vibrated with the need to find the source of the music. And the call ended only after I reached the open door of the music room and glanced at what lay inside.

"Hello, Miss Weasley," The words came out in one thick slur. "Have you come to mock me in my weakness? Or do you want to tell me how I am playing the piano improperly?" He asked, a dangerous smile on his face and eyes dulled by the alcohol. "Because I can tell you, I'm playing just the way you taught me. It really is an extension of myself, the only true way to express my desires."

"Malfoy?" my voice was as unsteady as his.

He turned on the piano bench, blasting a steely glare at me. The full blast of his frustration and anger knocked away what little sense I had left. "Draco," He growled.

"What?"

A long white finger beckoned me forward in one irresistible motion. Malfoy pulled me down on the bench next to him, his eyes never leaving mine. "Draco!" The tone was soft but insistent.

Two things happened in that moment. One, I lost any connection to my brain that I might have retained. A fog rose in my head, completely preventing any kind of thought. And two, I finally felt free.

"My name," His mouth found my ear. "Is Draco."

"Malfoy, I—"

"His lips brushed a line from my ear to the corner of my mouth. "Say it. Say Draco." His tongue darted out and tasted that corner.

But I couldn't call him by name, not anymore then I could protest the nearness of his body or how his nose teased mine. There was no objection to the burning taste of scotch on his breath of the way his hand slowly crept up my side. I simply had no ability to deny the need radiating from both him and me.

Nothing but silent consent.

Instead of speaking, since words were denied me anyway, I turned into his kiss. At first the kiss was bland, a mere touch of two lips, but after a muttered "oh god" everything changed. And then began the onslaught.

He didn't need to tease or coax me into anything; I was just as hungry as he. In desperation he bit my lip, and I tore a few buttons off his shirt. We couldn't get to each other fast enough. The only things that mattered were his hands, my lips, and the need blossoming between us.

Malfoy groaned as he peeled away the last of my clothes. "Oh Ginny."

"Shh!" I put two fingers across his lips, afraid he was going to do something foolish like declare some secret love for me. "Don't talk."

And that was that.

It was only afterwards that I realized I'd cried "Draco!" at the end. He had ravished me as thoroughly and as tenderly as possible. Though his own mind must have been overwhelmed with his own need and longing, he had still taken delicious care with me. It was also only afterwards that I realized I wasn't a virgin.

**And on to the next one!**


	7. Chapter 7: Him and Him and Him

**Here it is guys, the much anticipated chapter 7 and the revelation of _Him._ Are you ready for it?**

**Chapter 7: Him, and Him…and _Him_**

How many? Just how many things had I forgotten? Obviously I'd left behind a year of memories, but just what had I given up? What had I done? Was it bad? Good? How many times? With whom? For what reason? Just what had happened?

The questions overwhelmed my mind. All I knew was that I joined the Order, went on a mission, and was caught by Deatheaters. And I didn't even know that for certain!

I slumped down on the floor, hardly comprehending that my legs couldn't hold me up any more.

From those strange dreams I had deduced that someone had tortured information out of me, information that had put the Order at risk. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe I turned double agent, maybe I joined the Deatheaters, or maybe they just captured and raped me. For all I really knew Voldemort himself could have stolen my virginity!

That was a thought to jerk me out of my daze. It would have sobered up a habitual drunk in point two seconds. I had to leave. There was no way I'd be able to stay in that house any longer, not with what had just happened.

It wasn't because of the sex; that was something I could have handled in any other situation. But now all of my emotions were spinning around and making me more then a little dizzy. His tenderness and caring, the cold shoulder and turning away from me, those were the things that made me uncomfortable, the things that mixed with the sex I couldn't handle.

And mix all of that with the dreams, the memories, and the lack of knowledge of my past, I had to leave. Without a doubt I needed to get out of there to clear my head. Besides, I needed to talk to someone, someone who would tell me the truth.

Tentatively, I knocked on the guest room door at the Burrow. "Harry?"

He opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Ginny? What are you doing here? Did Malfoy do something? If he did, I swear I'll—"

"I need to ask you something!" I blurted out. "But I'm not sure just how to say it." I twisted my fingers around.

"Your Mum and Dad have been really nice, letting me stay here this time even though I said I was going back to my flat. It's been pretty good. They miss you of course. Fleur was here yesterday; she and your Mum talked about the baby." He was trying to put me at ease, talking about nothing, but it only made me more nervous.

"Harry, have we—I mean, have I ever done—what happened during the war?"

"You'd better come in." He made a big deal about turning on lights and moving books off a seat for me. "It's like this Gin, I can't tell you."

I moved to leave.

"It's not because I don't want to! I just don't know. You were different during the war; hell, we all were. But you didn't talk much about your personal life, not with anyone. Most of us didn't even know you'd joined the Order until it was too late. It wasn't until after you lost your memory that Dumbledore told us you'd been on a mission."

He was lying. I could hear it in his voice and see it in the way he didn't look at me. "Thanks Harry, but when you're ready to tell me the truth, I'll be up in my room." He couldn't tell me the truth, and I really didn't want his lies.

"Wait!" Harry grabbed my arm. "We promised not to tell you; we all promised, even Malfoy. After Dumbledore erased your memories, you said you never wanted to remember and made us all swear not to tell you. It was a Sacred Promise."

"I see." It made sense; I would have required something they wouldn't be able to break if I really didn't want to remember. "I'll just be heading off to bed now. Thanks."

Well, at least that explained why nobody answered my questions before.

It was odd to be back in my own room, strange to be around so many familiar things. The chair I curled up in to read, my books still spread across the floor, but someone had made the bed. It was all so familiar and yet so completely detached. How could I have changed so much in such a short amount of time?

Deliberately slow, in an attempt to make it feel normal, I changed into whatever pajamas were lying around. It worked. Out of habit, I grabbed the first book off the floor and lit my wand. A little nighttime reading might make for good dreams.

Great fat tears rolled down my face, no matter how hard I tried to stop. Sobs choked out any words I wanted to say, and there were quite a few. Snot leaked steadily from my nose. Just how I wanted to start my day.

"_This is your fault! Who gave you permission to try that spell in here?"_

"_We had to try it somewhere, and Hermione said it wouldn't hurt anyone! Stop giving me that look!"_

"_You shouldn't be so careless about where you point that wand of yours! One day someone is going to get seriously hurt."_

"_Oh that's rich coming from you! Weren't you the one boasting about flame spells yesterday?"_

"_Enough, boys!" Mum yelled. "It was an accident, Draco, and from now on, Harry, practice your spells somewhere other then the kitchen." She pulled out the chair next to me. "Look at me Ginny, that's it. Take deep breaths."_

"_Yea, Malfoy," a deep voice said from the background. "You don't see Ginny crying over it. Well, actually you do."_

_I was too busy laughing to realize Mum had undone the curse._

"Yes, Malfoy. We're not stupid, you know. Of course, Malfoy." Harry sounded annoyed.

"And remember—"

"Good-bye, Malfoy."

For a moment I allowed myself the sinful pleasure of smirking mischievously. Harry would never forego an opportunity to tell Malfoy off, and this way I didn't have to face him. A few mindless days without thinking or stupid old memories would do me a world of good.

"Good morning everyone!" I smiled gleefully, feeling refreshed. A good night of sleep will do that.

Dad lowered the paper and nodded at me while biting a piece of toast. Harry returned the greeting and then mumbled something inaudible about nosey ex-Order members. Mum didn't turn away from the stove.

"Dear, why did you leave Malfoy Manor last night? Did the two of you have an argument or something?" She asked quietly.

The reason I left could not in any conscience be told, especially not to my parents. "Umm, no, I just felt the time had come for me to leave."

"But apparently Malfoy didn't feel the same. He was quite upset that you left without telling him." Mum gave me a patronizing look. "You could have at the very least told him where you were going. He was very worried, you know."

I bowed my head in an attempt to appear chastised. Nothing could make me go back; I'd rather live on the streets. "Sorry Mum, but I couldn't stay there any longer. You wouldn't stay either, not if you learned what I did."

Mum and Dad exchanged curious and nervous looks but refrained from actually saying anything. Several moments of awkward silence followed before someone asked the big question.

"Are you going to go back?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm not, and I don't want to remember anything else anymore. In fact I want to forget everything I've remembered." I said calmly, still cutting the pancakes.

Dad leaned over towards Harry and asked the other big question. "What'd she remember?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to either." Harry whispered back.

"Excuse me," said a squeaky little voice. "Where should Lilla put Miss Weasley's things?" All four of us turned to look at the house elf. "Master thought Miss might like her clothes and things, since it does not appear that she will be returning."

"Oh, I'll take them, Lilla." I hopped up and reached for the bag in her hands.

"But Miss! They is very heavy! Let Lilla carry them." She looked horrified at the thought of me carrying anything.

"They, you mean there is more then one?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes! Master bought many pretty clothes and baubles for Miss! Master dotes on Miss, oh yes he most certainly does!"

"Thank you Lilla!" I interrupted gladly. "I'll, umm show you upstairs." She followed me very quietly looking at everything, most likely taking an inventory. "This is it." I opened up the door, and she gasped.

"Miss should not joke so with Lilla. This is the elf's room. Please take Lilla to Miss's real room."

"This is it, Lilla." I swept into the room and looked at everything closely. Last night it had certainly looked bigger and a lot more comfortable. But in the light, the dark blue drapes looked faded and washed out, the comforter on the bed pale, and the furniture chipped. It didn't look or feel like home anymore. "This is my room."

"But there is not enough space to fit all your pretty things!" She surveyed the room with an interior designer's eye. "Master won't like it, but I shall have to take some of it back with me."

"Lilla, I really don't need all of it. Just tell Dr—Mal—your Master that-that I don't want it." My cheeks felt like they were on fire for saying such things, but I didn't want anything to remind me of last night.

"Oh! I can't do that, Miss! Master gave me strict orders to return your things and to make sure this room was perfect for you."

That was that; Lilla had spoken.

For eight hours, she cleaned, arranged, straightened, and rearranged my bedroom. Several times Harry and I could hear loud bangs and then even louder curses.

"It's like living with Fred and George again!" I said with a giggle after the third eruption. "Except they didn't dare use her vocabulary."

Harry laughed as well, knocking over several of the pawns he'd just lined up. "Can't even begin to imagine just what she's doing up there."

"I think it's another one of those things I just don't want to know." Dad said from behind his paper.

I smiled at him just as the clock struck five, and Lilla came back down the stairs. "Well, Miss, it is the best I can do," She said grimly. "Although most of your things will have to come back with me. At least Master will feel secure that you will lack for nothing, in your own room at least."

"I have never lacked anything." The words fell like icicles from, my lips. "You make sure your _Master_ knows that."

And then Lilla did something very odd; she yanked me down close and whispered in my ear. "**He** already knows that, Miss. But I is not so sure. When he is telling me you is fine, I is not believing him. I is worrying for you. Always I is not sure if you is not wanting something more big."

"Oh Lilla," I said softly, my heart and eyes growing a little warm.

"I is going now Miss, but you is always remembering me, okay?"

"Always!" I knelt down, shook her hand, and blinked rapidly.

"Good," Lilla said without a trace of emotion, and then she left just as abruptly as she'd arrived.

Feeling both greatly relieved that she'd gone and anxious at how she'd left my room, I marched purposefully into the kitchen. Perhaps there was just enough time for Harry and I to finish one more game of chess before Mum called us for dinner. And then, maybe I could sit in the big armchair and finish The Scarlet Letter.

But the day didn't end my way. "So she left then?" Mum asked, sounding irritated for some unknown reason.

Dad stood over by the stairs but still in sight of the kitchen doorway. "Well, it might be nice for you to have a little change, right?"

Weren't the last several days a whole series of stupid changes, changes no one wanted or needed? "Yea, you're probably right." What did he know anyway?

Harry came in and sat down next to me. Once again, everyone was standing around in an uncomfortable silence because I had said something stupid. Dad continued to fidget with the Prophet while Mum hung pots and pans around in an attempt to cover up the silence. But no one said anything.

Just the moment before I thought I would run from the room, Harry spoke up, "Don't you want to go see what she did?"

Yes I did, desperately. But I also feared it with an even greater magnitude. Just what had she done to my room, my sanctuary, my domain? "I'll go look at it later. It's not like the room's going to change again in the next few hours."

Well, the room didn't change again on me, but it was both worse and better then I expected. She had put violet drapes around the bed and lavender ones on the windows. A rug (yet another shade of purple) covered the now shiny wooden floor. The furniture gleamed white, and I started to cry.

Was nothing sacred anymore?

Was I doomed to remember The Music Room forever?

Was life punishing me?

No, nothing was sacred and would never be again.

Yes, I was doomed forever and more.

Life wasn't punishing me; it was more of a planned situational unpleasantness.

Lovely.

"Oh Ginny!" He groaned. "Don't do this—we can't—I—" His words were cut off by another moan.

"_Yes, you can! Everyone can learn how to dance! Just—" I pushed his elbow up and firmly grasped his hand. "Just hold your frame!"_

"_Like this?" He asked, keeping his arms steady but managed to still rub intimately against me._

"_Okay, I think that's enough for today." I shook my head and moved away._

_He followed me across the room to the pitcher of water. "All this dancing has made me really thirsty." His breath tickled my ear. "You wouldn't be able to help me with that, would you?" His lips trailed a light path from my ear to my lips while his hands gently caressed my hips. "Please?"_

"_My parents—" I murmured, melting beneath him. "The others—Ron—" But I turned to meet his lips without hesitation._

_He seemed to be as content as I was with just light kisses and lighter touches. My fingers trailed up the back of his neck and into his hair, and a need flared up between us. Suddenly it wasn't enough to just kiss, and he took over with a passion._

"_Your parents—" He panted softly, pushing me harder against the wall._

"_Are out right now, so kiss me!"_

My breath was harsh and irregular as if I had asthma…or slightly erotic dreams. Trembling, I stood and paced the room, unsure of what I wanted to do. These dreams were getting out of hand.

If this were Malfoy Manor, I would have gone out to find Lilla or some other house elf for some company. Lilla would have cooed and coddled me, probably fixed me some hot cocoa too. And if we ran into Draco, well, he'd either fix me with that stare that could melt my stomach or recommend a nighttime stroll in the gardens. He would probably say a good little walk would put me right in the mood for sleeping, and then volunteer to give me a tour of the gardens.

But I didn't want that. I didn't want to remember Draco or to stir up long ago recollections. Perhaps a cup of warm milk would settle my…mind. Yea, settle my mind, or make everything worse.

If only those damn dreams would cease and desist, that would make the night much more bearable. Sleeping for once, all the way through the night, without waking up from some dream, would be wonderful. But one night wasn't enough.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Harry asked, his eyes and hair drooping over his own cup of milk.

I smiled at him. "Just like old times, huh?" Strange, two weeks ago really felt like old times.

He frowned. "Yea, 'cept I'm not an insomniac, and you're avoiding sleep instead of desperate for it."

"Okay, so not really." I turned away to face the stove and put a pan on it. "I know it'd be easier to heat the milk magically, but there's just something about doing it by hand." Something unbelievably soothing about it.

Harry stretched, leaning backwards over the chair. "I decided to start a garden, but I don't know if I should plant vegetables or flowers?"

"Why ask me? I don't know." The milk sputtered as it hit the hot pan. "Whichever you want."

"Doesn't really matter, I guess. I just want something to take care of. Maybe I'll get a dog instead."

Just the smell of warm milk made me sleepy. "Everybody needs something to nurture, keeps 'em in touch with the world." Warm milk always put me to sleep. My head lulled off to the side as the smell of the milk got to my brain. "Maybe I ought to get the dog."

He laughed. "Come on, let's get you back up to bed, before you fall asleep standing there."

"'Kay." I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder. "I am feeling tired."

We walked slowly, and I leaned on him heavily. My rock, my protector, he'd always been there to see that no harm ever came to me.

"She doesn't need your smothering protection. She needs to get out!"

"Harry," I whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Gin."

"Ginevra Weasley! You get out of bed right this instant!" I jerked straight up, confused and fully awake. "This house is an absolute disaster!" Mum screamed.

It was Saturday.

"I'm up," I groaned. "Give me a minute." It didn't take long for me to throw on old clothes and march down to the kitchen.

"She's gathering her army." Harry muttered, standing at attention. "Welcome to the war, Private Ginny."

I giggled. "Guess we better arm ourselves appropriately."

"I have just one question. Who are we up against? The house or your Mum?" He gave the mop an odd look. "And just what is that? Aunt Petunia had some interesting cleaning tools, but none of them doubles as a torture device."

"Alright, Ginny, you have the upstairs floors and the bathrooms. Arthur, that garage had better be spotless and do NOT spend the whole day with those stupid gadgets! Harry, you can clean the living room, and I'll take care of the kitchen."

Harry snapped a little salute at her back and marched into the living room. She did tend to give orders like a general on cleaning days. At least none of us had anything too hard, like de-gnome-ing the garden. That would be next week's chore.

The work didn't take too long either. With just four people living in the house, it tended to get a lot less dirty then when there were nine of us. And I really didn't mind the cleaning; at least it gave me something to do.

"The Madame General's coming for an inspection," Harry shouted up the stairs. "Hope you've got good news for her."

How could I not laugh after that? George used to shout things like that up at me, particularly on Saturday. "Aye, aye, sir!"

It didn't take me long to finish up with my list, and Mum didn't have much else in mind for me either. Both Harry and I passed the inspection with flying colors and were playing a game of exploding snap after an hour and a half. Dad didn't get off so lucky.

"Dun dun dudun," Harry hummed a funeral march underneath his breath as Mum walked out into the garage. "He's going to get it now."

And sure enough, Mum's voice could be heard through the door. "I thought I told you to CLEAN the garage, not make it a BIGGER mess! What on earth have you been doing out here? Building the gnomes houses?"

We both exploded into laughter.

It was a late night. Harry brought over a bunch of VHS thingies and VDVs—or was it DVDs? I think it's the latter, but whatever. He brought over a bunch of them, and we stayed up late watching them. We were probably up until one or two in the morning because of it, so we just decided to sleep down in the living room.

"Is she ever going to wake up?" Ron asked. "Should we force her to get up?"

"_Shut-up Ron!" Hermione smacked him playfully on the arm. "She got in late last night."_

_I tried to block out their voices._

"_Yea, that's why I wanna wake her up. Just what was she doing that she didn't get back in until 2:30?" Ron grumbled, and I peeked open an eye at him._

"_S'none of your business y'old busybody." I rolled over and grinned. He hated it when I called him that._

"_Lazy bum! Get out of bed!" He yanked the blankets off of me._

"_Hey! For your information, I was making a potential ally out of an enemy, and he wouldn't let me leave until I was 'fully convinced of his sincerity.' Bloody git." I growled and swung my feet over the edge of the bed._

"_Who?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione demanded at the same time._

_Someone in the corner laughed. "Isn't it obvious? I mean, he's been dogging her feet for the last few days trying to get up the nerve!"_

_I grinned at him. "He has, hasn't he?"_

"_Who?" Ron grabbed the front of my pajamas in an attempt to shake the answer from my lips._

"_Why, Malfoy of course." He said laughing at their stunned faces._


	8. Chapter 8: Mundane Monday, Terrible Tues

**Sorry for the long wait. I've had a little trouble getting a computer. Sorry. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 8: Mundane Monday, Terrible Tuesday, Wicked Wednesday**

"It's been a long time since I found you out here." Harry marched casually across the lawn. "How was work today?" He sat down on the old tree stump.

"Oh, I survived." I kicked up dust as I pushed back and forth on the swing. "Mary Ellen ran away from me, but I think D—somebody said something to her."

"Doesn't sound too bad for a Monday. Hey, you want to teach me how to pull weeds? Need to get a start on that garden." He suggested casually.

"It's October." I reminded him. "It's too cold to start a garden." I leaned back and looked up at the very blue sky. "Halloween is Friday."

"Yes it is." Harry leaned back as well. "Pretty day today. I'm not looking forward to the cold."

Why couldn't he just ask me like everybody else? Why did he have to be so damn easy to talk to, with that dreamy half awake look? Why did I feel like I could confide everything in him?

"You're looking pensive, care to share?" He asked, looking at me from the side as if it made no difference how I answered.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get these damn memories out of my head. And I want to really, really, really badly. I want them gone." I got up and kicked my way through a big pile of leaves. "I wish memories would just blow away like leaves in the wind."

He gave a little chuckle. "If they did that, how would we ever learn from our mistakes? Besides, aren't there some things you would miss if you couldn't remember them?"

"I guess." I plopped down in the middle of the leaves. "I would miss you if I couldn't remember you. But I feel like any minute the shit is going to hit the fan, really, any minute now." A bright red leaf floated down catching my attention. "I'm not stupid, you know. I gave those memories away for a reason, and I'm not sure I want to know why."

Harry joined me in the middle of the leaves, picking up the red one. "You can't pick and choose you know. It's—It's like this leaf. It's pretty, red, nice to look at. But not all of the leaves are. Some of them are wrinkled and ugly. Should we say fall is ugly because of a few leaves?"

"Depends on how ugly the leaves are!" I smiled at him, glad to make a joke.

He wrinkled his nose and threw leaves at me. Then the stupid bugger laughed at me! "You have leaves stuck in your hair." He managed to spit out between the fits of laughter.

"You!" I shouted throwing some back at him.

It was war. We chased each other all over the yard, leaves bunched in our hands and giggling like mad. Several times one of us slipped and went head first, or in my case butt first, into the leaves only to pop back up with half the leaves and twice the laughs. Even the wind joined in blowing everything everywhere and just in general increasing the chaos.

Eventually Harry got the upper hand pulling me down by the waist. "You're not getting away this time." He smirked. "Not now."

I've never roared so loud as I did when he started tickling me.

"St-st-st-STOP!" I squealed and tried to roll away, but he caught me between his arms and continued the onslaught. "I surrender! I surrender!"

"Say Uncle." He was laughing too. "Come on, say Uncle!"

"Never!" I shouted and tried to scout out between his legs.

"Oh no you don't, not until you say Uncle."

"Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!"

We both collapsed on the grass covered in leaves and breathless with laughter. I curled up next to his side half gasping and half laughing. Harry grinned recklessly, also still laughing and pulling leaves out of my hair. And we lay that way for a little while, until Mom called us in.

"Dinner time you two, get in here." We both rose from the pile our clothes wrinkled and our faces red from the exertion. "I don't want to know what you've been up to back there," Mum said bluntly.

We just laughed at her.

"_He's pretty funny," He said. "Got to hand it to Malfoy, he's got to be a genius to come up with something like that."_

_I smiled at him and went back to looking at the painting. "It's cute in a very, very odd sort of way." The painting looked like a grey glob with some white blobs on top of it surrounded by a bunch of blue stuff. "So it's not Monet or Picasso, that doesn't mean it's bad."_

_We both stared at it, thinking the exact same thing. There was no way in hell anyone would ever consider that painting art. Absolutely no way._

"_Ginny, the man cannot paint to save his life. We ought to set it on fire out of respect for the art community."_

_The giggles bubbled up until I couldn't hold them in anymore, and I had to lean against the wall to stay upright. But that only helped as long as my legs were still holding me up; they didn't last very long._

"_Hey Ginny, Penny-Pincher, you up there?" Harry shouted._

My head popped up off of my desk, another dream, another memory. I closed my eyes and mentally clutched that feeling of happiness to me. Just because I now had more happy memories then before, didn't mean I wasn't going to treasure everyone. So what if I couldn't tell who I was dreaming about? So what if I suddenly felt romantically inclined towards two different men? So what if I was now more confused in my life then I'd ever been before? At least I was happy, and nothing else mattered.

But who did I keep dreaming about?

"Hey, ready for lunch?" Harry stuck his head in the door of my office and interrupted my very happy moment. I glanced guiltily at the pile of papers on my desk, and he read my thoughts before I could even have them. "Oh come on, it's a Terrible Tuesday; you can't possibly want to sit around here for your whole lunch hour!"

I looked at him and wondered if he'd caught my silly mood from just seconds ago. Who was that man? Was he the same one from my earlier dreams? Why were we laughing about Malfoy? Harry! Harry was in the dream, so maybe he knew. A burning crept up into my heart; I needed to know. "Okay, okay, but we have to talk about something serious."

He held one hand over his heart and the other one up in the air. "I solemnly swear to allow you your one serious topic before I switch to something more amusing."

"Fine, fine," I consented.

"So, I thought we could go to this very little hole in the wall that has absolutely horrid food, but really good beer." He glanced at my sour expression. "Or we could eat at that charming little café in muggle London that you like so much."

I nodded and started across the street. "Well, come on, I've only got an hour, and we might need the whole thing."

We got a little table for two at the back, and the hostess smiled knowingly at us. The red and white tablecloth mixed with the pink candle would make for a pretty romantic dinner. But it was lost on everyone, except the waitress. She found it amusing when Harry gently took my hand, and gave a friendly wink when she approached and Harry dropped it.

At first we talked about trivial stuff while munching on a turkey melt and a burger. He got me to laugh by talking about the Quidditch team and Weasley Wizard Wheezes. But this delight couldn't last for all of lunch.

"So what's your serious topic?" Harry asked, ketchup dribbling down his chin.

"It's kind of complicated." I leaned over and wiped it off, ignoring the giggles behind me. "These dreams, I don't think they're going to go away. And now, I don't know if I want them to." I paused needing to find the right words. How could I explain this new man? "There are these two guys, and at first I thought they were the same person, but now I don't think so."

"What do they look like?" Harry asked trying to sound simply curious and not pulling it off.

"I don't really know; I can't remember or I don't see them in the dream. One of them you called a—a penny pincher; and one of them gave me a white rose—an everlasting white rose."

Harry leaned back and folded his arms. "I remember." His intonation never changed.

"Lance," I realized with sudden clearity. "Malfoy, and the other guy's name was Lancelot, but you called him Penny-Pincher because he used to walk around with his eyes on the ground watching for lost pennies." The strangest things were coming back to me. I could remember Lance with his quirky, American humor and dirty blond hair.

A creak in the chair jerked me off of memory lane and back to Harry. "Have you told anyone else about this?" He leaned across the table, his eyes narrowed as if angry.

"No, I wouldn't know who to tell, other then you." Something niggled at the back of my mind, something important that danced just out of my reach. "Why are you all defensive all of a sudden?"

He sighed. "Lance is a bit of a touchy subject," He said without explaining anything. "Most of us don't really want to bring him up anymore."

"Why's that?" Lance was a good guy, at least from what I could remember. My heart was beating just a little too fast, whether with fear or anticipation was anyone's guess.

"Like you said, it's complicated. Everyone has his or her own opinions of Lance. I, myself, question a few of his decisions," Harry leaned back in his chair, suddenly very tired. "Especially ones regarding a certain someone. But then, I questioned a lot of people's choices then."

"Did you ever question mine?" His answer should have been important to me. I should have wanted to know if he trusted my judgment or not. But I was just a little curious. Why?

A half smile crossed his face. "You were the level headed one. You always made the best choice at the time. And if I ever did question you, my doubts always disappeared. Luna was like that too. I only ever lost faith in her once, when she told me she loved me."

There was no response to that, and so I said nothing.

"But that's dirt under the rug. How's Mary Ellen?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. And I knew the topic was closed, no matter how much I wanted answers.

It's odd how sometimes I could remember the exact shade of a rose petal and how the sun shone down on it and cast a perfect shadow on the ground. But everything else about that day I just couldn't recall. I would go about my day wondering about that particular memory, but nothing would come back. And then all of a sudden, everything would come rushing back in a torrential downpour.

It was like that with Lance.

I was sitting on the floor of my room trying to pick a book to read, and my gaze fell on a worn out old one, my favorite. In that moment, I couldn't remember anything else about it, except that it was my favorite. Not the character names, or what the plot was, not even why it was my favorite.

But then, in the next, I knew everything.

Lance had given it to me because the main character's name was the same as his. He had wanted me to have it because he thought he was going back to the United States for a job interview. Fortunately for me, unfortunately for everyone else, he never left.

Lance, who was known to walk on the wild side, the guy who could get anyone to smile, the only Order member to take on five DeathEaters single handedly and live to tell the tale, Lance the legend was my best friend. He had more outrageous tales to tell and more fights for my honor then my brothers combined times two. Everyone loved Lance, even finicky Snape, even Dad.

Mum pushed the door open; I hadn't heard her knocking. "Oh, honey!" She cried and ran to wrap her arms around me. "Oh, honey!"

I didn't realize until that moment that tears were streaming down my cheeks. But then, it was a bit much to take in, the life and death of my best friend.

Wherever I went, whatever I did, it reminded me of Lance—the bright red leaf I'd almost lost forever. And I was ravenous for every memory of him. Those memories made me very happy.

"Well, you know that black choker he had? He told me, he stole it off of some girl." Harry had the most Lance stories. And even though he couldn't tell them very well, I could remember as the tale was told. "But it wasn't just any girl, but the one who'd stolen his wallet less then a week ago. And whenever someone asked how he got it off of her, Lance would wink and say 'There are some charms no girl can resist.' Anyway, he called it his token for fighting crime."

I chuckled. Lance never took it off, except once, when he let me wear it. That was an important night; I had needed to tell Mum and Dad something. Lance had given it to me for courage.

"Is that the thing Ron used to fantasize about getting?" Mum asked as she pounded dough for bread.

"Yes!" I laughed loudly. "He stalked Lance for days, but he never took it off.

I was happy, Mum smiled, and all was good in the world while I remembered Lance. Harry stopped by a lot for dinner, and Dad took to fiddling with his gadgets in the family room. We were a family again.

But like always, good things must come to an end.

"Hey Mum, can I see the paper?" I asked at the breakfast table. "I want to see who won the Quidditch match yesterday."

Normally she would hand it over with a smile and a nod, but occasionally she pursed her lips and gripped the paper harder. It was on those days that I knew someone had brought up my name in the paper, and that it wasn't necessarily complimentary. Lucky me, today was one of those days.

"Never mind, I don't want to know after all." I stuffed a bagel in my mouth. "It's not like I can't just ask Harry anyway." The whole office would be buzzing with this new bit of gossip; I wouldn't be able to escape it.

Strangely enough, I was right and wrong. They were all talking about it, but no one would say anything in front of me. It was like they were trying to hide the fact that they liked to gossip, even though I already knew they were talking about me. That was the most annoying thing about the office, how everyone tried to hide things from me. But I could always count on the loo to pick up those juicy bits of gossip. It hadn't let me down yet.

"Harry Potter? Gay? Highly unlikely," the woman had a robust and authoritative voice. "No man with that amount of masculinity could possibly be gay. I mean, he's manly, but not overly so."

The stall next to me opened and shut. This woman had a high twitter voice, not unlike Mary Ellen's. "He does have those wonderful shoulders. I would kill for Greg to have those shoulders." She sighed.

"Well, if your husband ever got out from behind the desk, he might just get some." Apparently the first woman didn't have to use the facilities; she'd just come in case the other one needed some kind of moral support, in case anything went wrong. "But then I did read in the paper this morning that he hasn't been seen with a woman since the end of the war. Rumor has it that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named fiddled with his head."

I heard the toilet flush and the door open. "Well, what about that Ginny Weasley? He's been visiting her recently I heard. Mary Ellen won't shut up about it. Did you know she was living with Draco Malfoy last week?"

"Who? Mary Ellen?"

"No, Ginny Weasley."

"Well, it's not like you can really count her as a woman. She could really pass for a man in the right outfit."

"Or a cross dresser!" Their laughter trailed out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with their mocking words.

No matter what topic started the conversation, it always ended in one of three names: Harry's, Draco's, or mine. Those three names were worked into countless conversations daily, perhaps even hourly! What was it that made us so damn interesting? Had the masses suddenly become obsessed with tragedies? Or had I missed something?

Even my own family wasn't immune to it I realized as I trudged back to my office. The whole thing was like one gigantic epidemic! Ron and Hermione were always arguing about us, and Mum would often complain about my name or Harry's being in the gossip column (not while I was in the room, of course). Even Dad would obsess over the things people said, especially when he knew they weren't true. I guess when the gossip was on the low, we were the backup. Unfortunately, it seemed gossip was always on the low.

At least in my office, I could escape for a few hours.

Or not.

"Harry! What are you doing in my office? Don't you have Quidditch practice?" He was sitting on my chair with his feet propped up on my desk and a very grim expression.

"I can't take it any longer. Your Mum and Dad won't stop asking me what happened with Malfoy. Malfoy keeps asking me how you're 'holding up'. And the answers I have just aren't enough anymore. What happened that made you run away from Malfoy Manor?"

Was this what it meant to have the shit hit the fan?

I slammed my office door with a little more force then necessary, but he'd made me angry. "I told you, I learned something about myself that scared me." He didn't _need_ to know anything else.

His feet hit the floor with the same amount of force that I shut the door with. "I don't think you're telling me the truth, Ginny. It takes a lot to scare you, a whole lot more then just learning a little fact. I think it was something else."

How could he sit there looking as angry as I felt? I was the one everyone kept interrogating! "Yea, well, I learned I wasn't a virgin, okay!" Let him stew on that for a while.

He shook his head looking impossibly sad, not shocked or surprised that I had just belted that information out. He was supposed to shut up for a moment and then leave. But he just brushed my words aside as if they were less important then the dirt on his shoes. "You're stronger then that, Ginny. You're the strongest person I know, stronger then me. I couldn't do the things you do, put up with the stuff you do. I think you're lying to me. What sent you running from Malfoy?"

There was no stopping my brain now, and a little prickle crawled up my spine. He'd put the thought in my head, and it wouldn't leave, not now, maybe not ever. I could see Malfoy's face clearly, the raw desire that sent chills up my spine mixed with the rigid restraint that I admired. And every time he looked at me it was a different combination of the two. From the moment he showed up at my birthday dinner, I knew but couldn't admit it.

That night, when he told me to stay in my room until morning, I knew, and my heart reached out to him. Even asleep I couldn't deny the knowledge that he loved me. So instead I tucked it away in a little corner of my mind where I was unlikely to find it.

"I-I learned that-that Malfoy loves me. He loves me a lot." I stared him down, desperately hoping he would leave it at that and go. I needed him to leave or my whole world might shatter.

"And that lead you to run away from him?" Harry didn't drop the subject, and he didn't leave.

Anger burned through me, a burning that started in my stomach and stretched to fill my head and toes. "I spent so much time in that house hurt and confused and lost! Do you know what it's like? He was warm and friendly one moment. I wanted to tell him everything! But then he'd turn so cold I'd want to run and hide from the chill. He would put on this air of-of superiority and I felt so-so disgusting! Could you live with that?" I demanded of him.

Harry just looked down at me, pitying me with that horribly sad smile. "Ginny," he had the low soothing tone, the kind one used with small children and skittish animals. What he said didn't matter, he just want me to calm down, to not be angry anymore. And it worked until I recognized the expression in his face.

He had the same look about him as Mary Ellen, but they were both wrong. I wasn't a helpless case. I didn't need their over rated help or their annoying pity. I didn't need to have my every move watched and my ever word recorded to make sure I wasn't going to do something foolish. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

I was a goddess.

A coolness trickled through me. "Harry," I interrupted the speech that I hadn't been paying attention to in the first place. "Thank you for coming to visit, but I need to work, not worry about something that happened in the past and can't be changed. Perhaps it was time you left."

As he walked by I could see the hurt my words had caused, but I felt justified in saying them. For so long I'd let other people look at me and talk to me as if they knew best. Because they just didn't know what they were talking about. They didn't know what it meant to give up one's memories or to be ostracized from society voluntarily. But they all thought they did, and they all though they could help me. Their words and actions were meant with the best intentions. But they simply couldn't. They could try, but in the end it had to fail.

Everyone thought they knew the best way to take care of me or the best way for me to live my life. I might listen to their advice for a little while, but in the end it didn't help. And everyone did it. No one could avoid endless stream of worthless help, with the possible exception of Draco. But then, he seemed to think it was his life's purpose to push me towards every extreme.

Why did it have to be so messed up? Why couldn't everyone just treat me like I wanted to be treated?

When I arrived home that evening, I'd managed to gain control of myself. It wasn't often that someone managed to get me riled up, but it was happening with an alarming frequency. First Draco, now Harry, who would be next? The minister? Luckily the house was quiet. Dad had some meeting to go to and wouldn't be back until much later in the evening. Mum had probably gone to visit a neighbor and lost track of time.

All of which left the house completely to me.

Or maybe not.

"Don't give me your lip, Potter. I just want to know how she's doing." What was Draco doing in my home?

"You know you really messed her up, right? She left because you had her spinning in circles. Do you treat all emotionally unstable people like that?"

Emotionally Unstable? I followed the sound of their voices to the kitchen. Harry leaned over and crouched down next to Draco's head, which was floating in the fire. They both looked angry, but Draco's face might have just been flushed by the heat of the fire.

"And how would you have handled the situation, Potter? Think you could have had a bit more grace about it? What if it had happened to Luna instead of Ginny, how would you have deal with the whole thing?"

Harry sat back on his heels, looking more then a little stunned. "That was a low blow, and you know it. With Luna, there's no comparison."

"Imagine if Luna were alive and couldn't remember how much you loved her or how much she loved you. Imagine that she's barely accepted that you joined the Order and renounced the Dark Lord. And now, after three years of having to watch her from a painful distance, you can touch her, smell her, talk to her. Imagine my joy at seeing Ginny." Draco scoffed. "How would you have been any different then me?"

From my spot at the door way, I had a perfect view of the tears falling from Harry's open eyes. He wept freely if only for a short time, just a few tears. Could I do that? "Just seeing her would be enough for me. I had to watch her die, you know, watch her as she wasted away from that damn curse." There was a tremor in his voice. "Every day I mourn the loss of her. For me it would be enough to simply see her."

"Fine, make me out to be the greedy bastard." Draco scowled. "But I don't thing you could have kept your hands off of her. Could you really leave her alone to face her own personal demons? Could you really resit the urge to hold her close and protect from the nightmare she has to live? Because that's what you would have to do."

His reply was so soft I almost missed it. "No."

"It was hell for me to watch her everyday, to know that she was right there within grasp, to know that I could comfort her. But if I did, it would drive her away from me. How would you handle it?"

"Well I certainly wouldn't sleep with her! That certainly sent her running from you!" Harry yelled. "What kind of fool are you?"

I started to shake from my spot by the door. Why where they talking about me? Why was Harry spilling everything into the open? He didn't have the right to confront Draco like that! I didn't need anyone to fight my battles for me. If people would just stop doing that, there wouldn't be any battles to fight!

Draco ground his teeth together. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Oh yes you do! I deserve to know just what you did to send her to pieces. So when Molly and Arthur ask, again, why she came home, I'll have answer for them."

"The answer? You want the answer? Well here it is. I'm not like you Potter; I wasn't strong enough. I thought I was, but I wasn't strong enough to not touch her! I've lived for three years fighting that temptation, and I wasn't strong enough to resist any longer. There's your damn answer! Blame me, everything's always my fault anyway."

Harry turned so that I couldn't see his face, but his tone told me all I might have seen. "I don't blame you for what happened; I would have done the same, I think." His voice was so soft and delicate I had to strain to hear it. "She's been asking about Lance now."

And there was silence.

"But-but it's only been a week! How could she remember that quickly?" Draco couldn't have sounded more stunned. "Dumbledore said even if she did it would take years."

Harry began massaging his temples. "I have no idea, but I think she wants to remember now. Instead of fighting against her memories, she's almost inviting them in. God, it's going to be so bad when she finds out. I can't imagine what she'll do when it comes back to her. He's dead, and—"

"Potter, get a hold of yourself. We're just going to have to help her through it. You can relate to her. You've already dealt with the death of Luna. You'll know her pain. She'll listen to you; you're the only one who has been in her situation." But I head the worry in his voice. I heard how much he didn't want me to remember. And I was afraid.

"She won't listen to me." Harry shook his head. "She won't listen to anyone."

"We'll just have to find someone she will listen to."


	9. Chapter 9: A Gala to Remember

**Hi guys, here it is, the last chapter, the finale, of Fragments. I hope the ending scene doesn't beat you over the head too much. And I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 9: A Gala to Remember**

"What's this?" I screamed down the stairs at Mum.

"It's a dress," Mum answered. "Reggie dropped it off while you were at work. Now put it on. We're going to be late!"

Horror filled me. "Late? Late for what?" She couldn't possibly expect me to go there, not now.

"We're going to Malfoy Manor. It's Friday, remember." She looked up at me with very hard eyes. "Now put that dress on!"

She did! She actually thought I was going to go there! "I'm not going. Hope you have a nice time." I gave her a smile as I turned away.

"Ginevra, if you don't put that dress on right now, I'm going to put it on you for you right here, in front of God and everybody!" We exchanged glares until she started up the stairs, then I squealed and fled to my room. I had my pride.

Safely behind my door, I could give in to secretly wanting to at least try the dress on, even if I didn't want to go to the Manor. It was a beautiful dress; Reggie was sure to get in the French Market.

The crooked hem made the otherwise conventional dress very risqué. When I twirled the hem flared out in a way that showed both the dress and my legs off at an advantage. I didn't know dresses could do that. And of course, just like expected, it couldn't fit more perfectly. The cloth slipped silently across my skin, sheathing me in a fine layer of silk. It felt like a cloud, and I felt like a goddess—albeit, a false one.

And the shoes, there weren't words in the English language to describe how perfect they were for me. The right was a plain red slipper, no heal, no sequences or bows. The left was also a slipper, but it laced up the leg tying in a bow just above my knee.

Instead of ripping it off and tearing the dress to shreds like I wanted, I began piling curls on my head. Mum said it would be disgraceful to go with my hair down. I let them drop and debated the more rebellious style. It's not like she could really complain about it, at least I was going to the stupid party.

Tingles ran up my spine, right up to the base of my skull where they fizzled out. It felt like goose bumps, but on the inside of my head instead of the outside of my skin. And then something clicked into place. It was like I'd been doing a puzzle, but I couldn't see what the picture was until one piece had been put in place. That was the feeling; I had found the most important piece and just put it in place.

"_Do you understand the consequences of this spell? It's not easy magic. I'll need hours to complete it." Dumbledore looked down at me with kind understanding eyes. "But not only that, if you actively fight the spell and try to remember, then the chances are high that you will drive yourself insane."_

_I would have snorted at him if the situation had been any less serious. "There's no chance of that, not if you leave me with the memory of not wanting the memories." He still didn't look convinced that this was the only plausible course of action. "If you don't do this, Grimwauld Place will look like a minor mishap. How many meetins have I already sat in on? How much information do I already have? Voldemort will continue to use me against you. We can't break his spell. I'm a liability to the Order. The only other choice is to kill me." If I could just concentrate on proving my point to Dumbledore then I wouldn't have to think about what I'd done._

_He sighed. "The others will have to be sworn to secrecy, but I agree with you. There isn't any other way." He sighed again, resigned now to the fact that I had come up with the only solution. "Alright, I must warn you though, there is a period after the spell is cast, while it is settling into you, you may forgot things that happened after the spell is cast."_

"_You're saying I might not remember Ron's wedding?"_

_Dumbledore nodded kindly. "Do you still want to go through with it?"_

"_There will be pictures." I would not mourn anymore, not the things I would give up, not the people upstairs, and not the memories I would never have. I would not mourn him. "I have to do this, to protect the people I love." Sure, that's the story I would tell._

"_Ginevra." He knelt down and cupped my face in his hands. "It's not your fault. None of this happened because of you."_

_I would not cry. His hands were soft, cushioned by the many wrinkles. They were hands that had seen the truth in life, hands that had worked, loved, and survived. I would be like those hands, withered but alive. "Do it."_

Long fingers, long and delicate, and pale. Not the hands of someone who had just barely survived. I took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. So I had been captured by Deatheaters and revealed important information. So the information I had leaked had lead to an attack on Grimwald Place? I fought the urge to throw up.

There were only so many things a girl could handle at a time. This one would have to wait until after the ball. Then I would have enough time to think through everything and figure out what should be done. I didn't have enough nerves left to be worried about this too.

I blinked and saw my reflection. Who would really even notice if I left my hair down? It looked pretty that way.

"Come on Ginny! It's time to go!" Mum shouted up at me, and I heard Dad grumble in the background.

"I don't want to go!" I shouted back down at her as if my reluctance wasn't already obvious.

"Get down here! If you wait any longer, I'm going to—"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I walked slowly down the stairs. Maybe if we arrived in a big crush of people, I could sneak away. Or even better, late, then I wouldn't have to spend as much time trying to be nice to people I didn't even know.

Apparently I had an audience waiting for me to descend. Harry gulped, his eyes trailing up my legs and admiring the stunning shoes Reggie had created. Or at least I hope he was admiring the shoes. Mum smiled, and Dad gaped. He looked so very funny with his jaw falling off and his eyes popping out that a little burst of laughter escaped me.

"You look wonderful, Ginny." Harry smiled and offered me his arm. I tried to look gracious that he had agreed to accompany me to the ball, but I hadn't quite forgiven him for that conversation with Malfoy. On the other hand, I hadn't quite figured out the specifics of that conversation either. Maybe there wasn't as much to forgive as I thought, if I was lucky.

"Yes, you do, Ginny. You're beautiful." Mum swiped at her eyes.

"Well, shall we go?" I smiled as sincerely as I could which meant it wasn't sincere at all. Maybe the sooner we left, the sooner it would all be over? One could always hope.

Harry fidgeted, scuffing the floor with his black shoes. "Umm, I know you probably don't want to dance, but it's sort of tradition for the guest of honor and the host to share the first dance."

My smile was frozen in place. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, I don't dance."

"That's a load of rubbish." Mum stated bluntly and began hurrying us towards the door. "I happen to know that Malfoy is an excellent dancer, and tonight, you do dance." She had that give-me-nonsense-and-I'll-give-you-death look about her, the one even the twins didn't dare object to.

"Fine," I spit out through clenched teeth and crossed my arms. "That's just fine." But of course it wasn't; it wasn't at all.

The house looked so odd, so different from what I knew. All the candles flamed warmly, exorcising the mere thought of shadows. Gentle, happy music floated through the air, nothing at all like the haunting melody from my memories. And people, lots and lots of people roamed the grand ball room, chatting and laughing. It was alive now.

So why couldn't I stop thinking about that night? Why couldn't I stop myself from wishing everyone else gone, from wanting that haunting melody, from hoping for the darkness? Shivers crawled across my skin, the pleasurable kind, the kind one gets when one is about to get something long desired. But I didn't want anything. Especially not him.

Harry carefully excused himself from me, leaving me standing next to Mum in the giant crush of people I'd yearned for. A smile wouldn't come to my lips, so instead I tried to look merely bored. It was hard, but luckily most everyone left me alone, even if they did whisper behind their hands.

I wandered away. Perhaps if I could make a quiet exit, no one would think to come looking for me. Surely Draco could find someone else to dance with, someone bright and happy, someone willing, anyone not me.

"Not running away are you?" Speak of the devil, Draco appeared out of the crowd and at my side. "Can't have my Guest of Honor running away. It's bad for my reputation."

"Malfoy," Harry said disgustedly, appearing just in time to rescue me. Maybe he would be my knight in shining armor after all?

"Hello, Potter." Draco nodded respectfully. "Would you mind if I claimed the first dance?" He was actually asking permission from my escort! I was shocked.

Forced by the situation to be cordial, Harry said, "Not at all." They gripped each other's hands forcefully. Harry looked as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words.

"Don't worry, she'll be safe with me."

"You're the one I'm worried about, Malfoy." Harry growled, and an unspoken threat lingered in the air between them.

Draco bowed to Harry and then offered me his arm. "Shall we, Miss Weasley?"

Harry gave Draco my hand and walked away grumbling. I watched him, a bit lost as to what to do. This wasn't something I was prepared for, being abandoned, all alone with a stranger.

It wasn't quite eight yet, and people were still arriving, some apparating straight into the ballroom. We walked through the crowd at a very slow crawl; so many people wanted to stop and say hello to Draco. He glanced over at me a few times, concerned and loving. Something fluttered up in my stomach; nervousness, I tried to tell myself.

"Dance with me, Lady?" He asked. "I realize this is the last thing you want, but please, just tolerate my presence a little longer. Then you will be free of me, I promise." He whispered, leading me out onto the floor.

It was the same as that night, the music calling me, urging something deep inside of me to come out. And yet, it was an entirely different feeling because it wasn't some nameless yearning. Here in the arms of Draco, in the arms of safety, the music called for me to release everything and be free.

I couldn't resist the call of the music.

His hand was gentle as it took hold of my own, and his fingers were light upon my waist. "If you don't hold on to me, I'll fall down." I whispered to him. "I need some support." Why wouldn't he hold me close or tightly?

A smile crept onto his face and his hand tightened just a fraction. It wasn't enough, not for me. "Just don't forget to move your feet Miss Weasley."

We twirled slowly around the floor in an imitation of the real thing. "Why do you call me that? No one else does, and I call you Draco now."

There was a fair bit of space between us, as if he were afraid of getting too close. "Are we well enough acquainted for first names?" He dipped me back carefully. Why did he have to be so careful when I was ready to abandon everything in hid arms. My body ached for his, and I couldn't even show him!

"I would think so," I answered frustrated beyond endurance with the conversation. Of all the things we could have talked about, we were talking about names! I had to lock my arms to resist the temptation to shove him away. Or pull him closer.

"Then I will call you Ginny from now on." He smiled, but made no move to hold me closer to him like I wanted. I was practically vibrating with desire, or I would have been if I wasn't so desperate to control it. How could he just stand there?

I bit my lip, thinking. "Do you always have such a distance with your partner when dancing?"

His eyes never blinked, his step never faltered. "The last time you and I shared a dance it sparked a whole new wave of gossip. I thought to keep things less scandalous this time."

We were silent after that. He'd brought up the past, always a dangerous topic with me. And now I was lost in thinking about it, in thinking about our last dance and the passion we shared. I now realized it was with him I danced at Ron and Hermione's wedding reception. Then there was the night we shared together, but that was never far from my thoughts it seemed. And all the memories I'd been discovering. I pushed that thought away and tried to concentrate on the music.

But the twirl of the music around us didn't help at all. Soft, light, gentle, it was like a light breeze on a nice spring day. No heat, no controversy, no passion, there was nothing to get lost in. It was none of the things I appreciated in dance music and none of the things I needed now.

The music drew to a close, and our audience clapped for us. It was the polite clap of a bored audience. "I guess it was an okay dance," I said to Draco.

"Okay?" His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You didn't like it?"

"To be honest? A dance should make one feel alive, to make them notice everything and nothing at the same time. It should so totally enthrall the dancers that they are lost in it, caring about nothing else." I shrugged at him. "Besides, this dress was made to be shown off with something flashy. Reggie would be disappointed otherwise."

He didn't smile as I'd hoped. "Well, perhaps your escort will be more accommodating then I." Draco bowed over my hand and walked off into the crowd, leaving me alone.

First, I didn't want to see him, but he came anyway. He marched right out of the crowd at me looking like he wanted nothing more then my company. And then I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want him to let go, to turn away, and disappear back into that crowd. Would I never get what I wanted?

And I came to the realization as I watch Draco walk away from me that I might never be happy. Whenever I wanted peace and quiet, I was stuck in a large crowd of chatty people. But then when I wanted the loud noise, I was left alone with so much more then just solitude. Draco always left the moment I realized I wanted him close by. And of course Harry would be there in his stead.

"Would you like to dance again, Ginny?" Harry offered me his hand.

I said yes just to have something to do.

The colors of the room swirled together, and the noises become one loud blur as the night progressed. I lost myself in the arms of too many partners and in the bottoms of too many drinks. Somehow my smile never faltered, it never changed, and it never disappeared. But my laugh always sounded fake, and there was always something empty inside.

"I need a breath of air." I smiled breathlessly at the partner of the moment.

He led me out onto the balcony. "Would you like some company?" He asked just like a gentleman.

"No, thank you, I need a moment to refresh myself. The crowd inside is a bit stifling, but I don't want to deprive you of its entertainments." No one had noticed I was playing a role, that I was pretending to be one of the heroines of an historical romance.

I was the belle of the ball, completely charming, delightful, and witty. Everyone wanted to dance with me, to talk to me, and to ask to be allowed to call on me the next day. But I was waiting for that one gentleman who would sweep me off my feet, who would make the room spin just by standing next to me, who would ease the loneliness inside of me.

Too bad he was busy talking to the other gentlemen in the room.

It was so late that everything beyond the ballroom, the flowers, bushes, and sculptures were all shadows. Dark and imposing and beautiful, I wanted to go out and join them, but that would have been a very stupid idea. For a moment I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of freedom.

_I tried to open my eyes, but a heavy cloth bound them closed. It smelled like stale urine, fear, and blood, lots of blood. The sour scent frightened me. I was in the hands of the Deatheaters._

"_Hello, Ginevra," It was a voice far worse then any sound; it grated against my nerves far worse then someone dragging their nails across a chalkboard very slowly. "Will you not greet me in return? It's only polite."_

"_Hello," I whimpered._

"_Good. Now tell me, what is the good Professor up to? What mission has he sent you on tonight?" My skin crawled as Voldemort lifted my hand. "Such beautiful fingers you have."_

"_I'm not telling you anything." I spit out through clenched teeth._

_He slowly bent one backwards until it started to hurt. "Are you sure, my child?"_

"_Yes," I growled._

_The blindfold was ripped from my head, taking with it several strands of my hair. "Were you sent to gather information?" I gripped the arms of the chair tightly. "Answer my, Ginevra."_

"_No."_

"_Were you meeting someone? Do not lie to me." He forced my chin upwards so that he could stare into my eyes. The devil couldn't have worse eyes then him. "Surely by now, you are old enough not to believe in the devil anymore."_

"_The devil exists; I'm looking at him." Pain lanced through my body, contorting every inch of me, and I screamed._

"_Who were you going to meet?" He demanded, and the pain lessened although it didn't disappear._

"_I'm not telling you." I glared._

"_You will tell me everything you know, Ginevra. You will talk until you have nothing more to say, and still you will talk. You will talk to stop the pain, and I shall enjoy it._

"_You'll have to kill me because I won't tell you anything." They were brave and foolish words, but I intended to hold to them as long as I could._

"_Who were you meeting?" He ran one long, cold finger across my cheek._

"_I'm not telling you." I repeated the words over and over, focusing everything on that one sentence._

"_She doesn't know. I do believe Dumbledore is getting smart." Several people in the room laughed, and the horrible laughter echoed._

_Voldemort put two fingers at my temples and pushed. It felt like two nails being drilled into my skull. "The parchment in your pocket, please, Ginevra." His voice was always polite, but the words still sent shivers across my skin._

"_I can't move my hands."_

"_Oh," He sighed and smiled. "Then I shall have to take it out." His cold hand crept slowly into my pocket, the chill sinking into my thigh. A malicious grin curled upon his lips. "Well isn't this just wonderful, Number Twelve Grimwald Place, headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."_

"_NO!" I screamed._

_Everything went black again._

I clutched a hand to my throat.

"_I'm hardly concerned that she'll remember, Severus. Bella happens to be terribly proficient with that lovely little spell. She'll not be able to speak of what she has betrayed, even if she does remember. Now, return her. We mustn't alert those fools as to our plans."_

"_Yes, Master." Snape bowed and lifted me carelessly from the floor._

For a moment I didn't see anything but the blackness of the garden in front of me. I couldn't hear anything but the unsteady beat of my heart. The Deatheaters had caught me, I had given information to Voldemort himself, and then I hadn't told the Order what had happened. I only said that the mission had been an absolute failure and cried.

My heart beat louder. They'd had a plan to invade headquarters and destroy everything. And I had given them the key. I could heard the sounds of people hitting the floor, no, not people, bodies. Green flashes of light bounced around the living room that Mum had spent so much time trying to clean. Then there was the screaming.

But another sound broke through my shock, and I turned to the light.

"Ginny, have you been out here long?" Harry moved with big strides to my side. "Why are you so pale? Did you wear yourself out dancing too much? You're cold. Are you alright?"

It dawned on me. "I shouldn't remember. Dumbledore said if I fought against his spell I would go insane. But I didn't fight it! I didn't want to remember! I don't want to remember!" All those bodies covering the floor, the blood staining the carpets, Mum weeping and holding on to Dad, I shouldn't remember any of it.

Harry put his arms around me. "What are you talking about? What do you remember?"

"He died." My breathing came fast, in loud gulps. "Lance died, protecting Draco. He died." I couldn't get any air in my lungs. "I betrayed them and he died!" I ripped myself away from Harry.

"Ginny—"

"What have I done?" I had to leave. I couldn't look them, not anymore. The shit had really hit the fan.

And with a loud pop I was gone.

* * *

A rumbling rocked the dirty walls around me, and I spun around trying to find the source. There weren't too many people around me, just a few girls dressed in tank tops and mini skirts and a gang of boys in baggy pants dripping in chains. The air smelled of stale smoke, and the breeze blowing by wasn't cold. The rumbling came again just as loud as before.

No mistaking this as anything other then the London Underground, that was for sure. Even though I'd never seen it before, Harry had shared enough stories about it. He said it was the easiest place in London to get lost. Perhaps that why I ended up there.

I wanted to be lost. I wanted no one to ever find me again. I didn't deserve their love. No wonder Draco wouldn't hold me close. He had finally realized that I didn't deserve him, that I would never deserve him. After all, it was my fault that Lance had died. I had betrayed them, and he had paid the price for my betrayal.

And Lance had been protecting Draco. Lance had known that if Draco died so would I. He had seen that I would not be able to live without the man I loved. But how could I live with the guilt of Lance's death on my soul? I didn't deserve to live.

"Why, 'ello Missie, where might you be headin'?"

I flipped around to face the disembodied voice. It came from a lumpy pile of rags I hadn't noticed before. "Excuse me?"

"Ya looked a mite confused and a whole lot lost. Where ya headed? Maybes I can help." A dirty bum poked his head out of the pile; I never would have noticed him otherwise.

"I think I can figure it out for myself." He shrugged, and I studied the map hoping for an idea of where to go. Not that it mattered, I just needed to get away from him so he wouldn't ask me anymore questions.

The map was just a bunch of lines, green, blue, orange, yellow, and brown. They didn't actually go anywhere either from what I could tell, just it places like Piccadilly Square. That didn't tell me anything. But the longer I stood there the more I remembered. Lance had once gone to Piccadilly Square, and I had killed Lance.

No wonder I hadn't wanted to remember him. My bright red leaf only served to point out what an ugly brown one I was. How everyone must hate me.

After a few minutes the old bum spoke up again. "Come off it Missie, let me help ya. Where ya headed?" His voice sounded familiar.

"Nowhere," I admitted and sat on the rags next to him.

"Tha'right? Well, I canna give you directions, if I don't know where you're going. But this line be the blue line." He offered with a shrug of his boney shoulders. "'Haps yous looking for a place to get a hot meal? I can help ya with that." He suggested with a kind smile.

"As far from here," I put my finger randomly on one of the dots. "As possible." What did it matter where I was going, I just need to get as far away from annoying helpful bums as I possible could!

"You on the run, ain't'cha? And by the looks of it, from sumthin' bad." He shook his head disapprovingly.

"I'm not running!" He raised an eyebrow at me. "And even if I was, it's none of your business."

"But ya still runnin', pro'lly from some poor bloke. Seems to me you's is always runnin' from some poor bloke."

He was making me angry. "I don't need this! I've just had the worst night of my life, and I don't need you to make it any worse." I got up and stomped down the hall.

"Wait! Wait Missie!" He called after me. "I dunna mean to be rude. It canna be that bad."

I bent down and curled up in a tiny little ball right there in the middle of the London Underground. That bad? It was certainly bad, but how bad? As bad as I thought? No, worse.

"Missie?" He called again sounding concerned.

"I did something," Tears welled up, and I thought I hadn't any left to shed. "And I thought it was the right thing, you know?" It didn't take to much energy to turn to look at him, and besides, I wanted to see his reaction to what I did. I wanted to see the disgust on his face when he finally understood that it was _that bad._ "But I ended up hurting everyone I love, really badly. I betrayed everyone, even the man I loved. How do you deal with that?" The tears fell, and the old man hobbled over to my side.

"Ya canna deal with it, not by yeself. Ye gotta remember, ya not alone. Ya got people who love ya, pro'lly a lot. Ya canna just run away from 'em, s'not fair to 'em." He pulled me up so I could stand, even if I couldn't keep standing by myself.

The tears fell harder. "Somebody died, because of what I did. Nobody is going to forgive me for that, and it's not like I can fix it." He wasn't going to understand, was he?

"Well, no, you canna fix that, but can ya do it again?"

"Kill somebody else!" I shouted and half stepped half pushed away from him. The old man didn't even budge. "How can you ask something like that? I can't live with the first person I've killed so why would I do it again?"

He sighed with his whole body and it looked like he might fall over. Instinctively I moved to help him stand. "Was it somebody you liked a lot? Ya miss him."

"Yea, I did. I do. He was my best friend."

"Well, ya certainly didna killed 'im on purpose then, didja? Would 'e want ya to be so unhappy 'cause he died?"

"No, he died protecting someone close to me. He died to protect Draco, the man I love." I leaned my head on his shoulder; the old bum was taller then he looked. "But how can my family forgive me for what I've done? How can the continue to love me?"

"You canna chose who you love or who loves you. You can only accept their love, 'cause it isn'ta goin' away."

I looked up at him. He wasn't as old as I thought he was either. "You think they'll forgive me?"

He smiled.

"Ginny! Ginny!" Harry came running up, gasping and looking frazzled.

"Don't'cha be forgetting the rules now. Yous a goddess now." The old bum whispered in my ear, and I thought I felt him kiss my cheek.

"Are—are you—are you alright, Ginny?"

"Harry," I managed my first genuine smile of the evening. "What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you. Are you alright?" He held on tightly to my shoulders, staring in my eyes to see if I was lying.

"Do you forgive me? For Lance's Death, for the attack on Headquarters, for—"

"Of course!" He interrupted, yanking me into a hug. "You're like a sister to me Ginny. You were as much a victim in that as the rest of us were. I'm sure if you were able to keep the information from Voldemort, you would have. You're my sister, Ginny, and I love you." He looked like he was going to cry. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm alright now," I said as the truth dawned on me. Why else would Mum have gone to such lengths to protect me from everyone? Why else would Dad make sure I didn't have to deal with the press every time there was a ministry event? Why else would Harry come to visit so often? My family might not be able to say it, but they showed their love in undeniable ways.

"Just a minute and we can go back to the party. I want to say good-bye to—" I turned around to look at the man. "He's gone!" The whole pile of rags was gone, and the old man was no where to be seen! "Where'd he go?"

"Who?" Harry asked, very confused.

I was no less confused but I couldn't very well explain a disappearing man to Harry. I shook my head at the empty spot on the floor and vowed to thank the old bum somehow. "Let's go back."

The party was still in full swing when we came back, and that was good news for me. Both Mum and Draco spotted me the moment I entered the ballroom, and their worry turned to relief. But I didn't want them to worry. I was a big girl, and I could take care of myself. Draco had been right when he said I would have done better with a homeless bum. After all, it was a bum who pointed out Lance's love for me.

They hadn't done very much to help me. When I needed a good kick on the bum, all they had done was gently pat my hand. Right now, all I wanted was a little time alone to sort through everything. And if I had learned one thing in the last three years, it was how to be alone in a crowd. But they both started making their way over to me even thought Harry kept shaking his head at them. I could see the intent to protect me, even from across the room. That was the last straw; I was going to prove my independence here and now.

"Mum! Dad! Draco! And Harry! We are all here, together." I was just a little too happy sounding.

"Are you alright?" Dad asked nervously. And he had every right to be nervous.

"I'm just fine." I beamed at them. "I wanted to talk to you; I learned a few things tonight." So I _might_ have been a teeny bit on the loud side, and I _might_ have been calling a little bit of attention to myself. "Mum, you make horrible rhubarb pie, really. Don't ever make it again. It's bad for people's health. And Dad, did you know—"

Draco grabbed my arm and hauled me off to a side room. "What are you doing? Do you want to embarrass your whole family in front of everyone?"

"I've remembered." My voice was icy cold. "I've remembered everything, just like you wanted. Are you unhappy now?"

"I only wanted what was best for you." He defended himself, looking very tired.

"So you took matters into your own hands, like when you put that potion in Hermione's shampoo." I accused him, looking every bit as intimidating as I could.

"You can't hold that against me! She thought Ron didn't like her because her hair was too frizzy! I did her a favor. Someone had to help them!" He motioned wildly. "The tension between them was so thick even I couldn't stand it!"

I stepped closer to him. "You have a really shitty facade. I've been able to see through you since I started to live near you. How no one else saw it, I don't know because that mask you wear is really shitty."

He looked so much smaller, his face was pale and his eyes wide with apprehension. But then I would have been fearful too, when faced with someone like me. It was time the rest of the world saw the man that I did in Draco Malfoy. I marched over to the door and threw it open.

By this time I had the attention of everyone in the room. "Did you know, that Draco Malfoy, the man most of you still have nightmares about spent an entire night filling out reports that I didn't have time to do? Did you know that he spends most of his time worrying more about everyone else then he does about himself? That during the way, this man saved more lives the most people will ever know? And he cast a spell of an old bum in the London Underground."

"Stop it Ginny," He said softly to me. "That was a long time ago, I'm not that man anymore. I'm not as strong as that anymore, and I care a far fewer things then I did then."

"You had to have cast that spell sometime in the last week!" I raged at him. "I heard you talking to Harry."

"I did cast that spell because I was worried about you. I didn't want you to run off and get hurt. It was supposed to detain you long enough for Harry to find you, and maybe help you to see the truth." He shrugged. "And to tell you the truth, yesterday feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was." He walked away.

As the crowd parted for him, allowing him the getaway he wanted, I saw something new. Or maybe it wasn't as new as I thought. His head was bent down, but not quite staring at the ground. It was the stature of a man who has just lost everything, but must still find the strength to go on. It was a man in love.

"Why?" I asked, needing the answer perhaps more then I needed anything before. How could a man like him, a man so—so wonderful, fall in love with a girl so broken?

He raised his head and turned around. "Why?" Draco repeated, dumbfounded. I could see it there in his eyes, the years of love and devotion, and it was heartbreaking. And he must have seen something in my eyes too, because he smiled.

It was in that smile that I took the second step in getting over the death of Lance. The first was understanding that people loved me, and the second was understanding why. There, in Draco's smile and in his eyes, I could see the answer. He loved me for the respect I showed him, for my dependence on him, for the times we spent in laughter, and the times we spent in tears. He loved me not inspite of my faults, but because of them.

There was only one question to ask now.

"When did you first love me?"

"I don't know. It's not like one day I didn't and the next I did. It's not like you did something and I loved you for it." His eyes turned the softest shade of silver. "You were the only one I thought would listen to me when I wanted to join the Order. I thought that because you were the only one who would actually look me in the eye. You made me…" He shook his head and then looked up. "You let me earn my way into your good graces. It was all the little things you did, and all the little things you didn't do. It was the way you got angry when I didn't tell you I was on a mission, and the way you would bit your lip when I did." He gave me that smile again, the one full of innocence and hope. Hard to imagine a man like him actually have those two things, but he did.

And then he turned away and began walking again. I had to do something; I couldn't just let him leave me. Because this time it would be forever. And that little part of me, where I was hiding all the little secrets from myself was disappearing. And my heart was breaking.

"I remember when I knew you loved me." I'm sure he could see the tears in my eyes, even from the other side of the room. "It was when you showed me the rose garden, I called you a friend and then you squeezed my waist."

He wouldn't meet my eyes, not even from that distance. But his voice carried across the room. "I wanted more then your friendship."

"I've really messed it up now, haven't I?" I whispered to my beautiful gown.

Draco stood there, tall and proud. His voice was strong and didn't waver as he continued to speak. "I'm too tired of this Ginny. I'm too tired of following you around, of trying to get you to come out of your shell. I'm too tired to tell you what to do, to argue and fight with you. Too tired to make you smile. You're always running away from everyone, your parents, Harry, me. And I'm just so tired of chasing you. This is it, it's over." And he was gone.

* * *

Mum handed me a cup of coca back at home. "Don't think too much about it darling, I'm sure everything has worked out for the best."

I think I just grunted at her, but I'm not really sure. He looked so sad, so dejected from across the ballroom. And even though he had been so far away, I could still picture the expression on his face, the lonely shadows on his checks, half-lidded eyes, and the thinly pressed lips.

"You get some rest, everything will be better in the morning, just you see if it isn't." She tucked the blanket in around me, smiled sadly, and left.

All alone for the first time all night, and I only wanted some company, the irony. He said he was tired of chasing me, that I was always running. Well maybe I was, but didn't I have a good excuse? Didn't I have something worth running from? Wasn't death worthy?

"_But ya still runnin', pro'lly from some poor bloke. Seems to me you's is always runnin' from some poor bloke."_

Was running ever worth it? Or were the things worth running from the things most worth turning and facing? Was I just being a fool or was I actually in the right?

I buried my head in my knees. Did it even matter now if I was in the right or not? Draco thought I was running from him, and he was obviously not going to chase me anymore. I had officially lost him. I had lost him just as well and truly lost Lance. At this rate I'd lose Harry too, and then I'd really be all alone.

"_Ye gotta remember, ya not alone. Ya got people who love ya, pro'lly a lot. Ya canna just run away from 'em, s'not fair to 'em."_

The old bum was right; it wasn't fair to run from them. And if I wanted Draco in my life I was going to have to stop running. No, not stop running, that was something I couldn't afford to do. If I stopped then I would certainly lose Draco forever. But if I turned around and kept on running, maybe I could catch him before he go too far.

The piano was playing in Malfoy Manor, the same creaking melody from a night I now cherished instead of feared. This time it was sad, and I was able to recognize that not all was as lost as I might have feared. I didn't need it this time to guide me to the music room. Even if I never entered this house again, I would still know how to get there.

He turned to look at me the moment I stepped in the room, but didn't say a word. He didn't move; he didn't smile. And for a moment I feared for the worst. "Hello," I said.

"Hello," He closed his eyes for a moment, and then asked the question. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," I paced across the room to stand in front of him, to face this great fear of mine. "All that stuff you said about me running, well, you were right." I paused to gather my strength. "But that's all in the past now. And I'm tired of running."

"You're still running." He scorned. "You're just running to get away from the loneliness now." His fingers traced the piano keys as he turned away.

I bit my lip, hurt at his angry words. But I wasn't going to run; I was going to see this out until the end. "I might be running from something, but it's not loneliness. I don't need to run from that, I've already lived with it for three years."

He slammed on the keys loudly, angrily. "What is it then? Lance's death? Voldemort? Harry? Me?"

"Harry? UNnlikely, he doesn't seem to understand how to deal with me, but he's trying. Voldemort? Maybe, but he has no power over me, except in my dreams. I'll admit, the dreams can be terrifying. Lance? Well, I think that is something that I won't stop running from for a long time. That's something that even time might not be able to heal."

I stepped up to the bench and looked down at him. This seemed to be the most important thing I could say all night. "But make no mistake, this time I'm certainly not running from you." He looked at his eyes dark, perhaps with hope, perhaps with anger. "I'm tried of looking back; I want to move on."

He sucked in his breath and sat a little straighter. "Of course, one shouldn't live in the past."

The tears nearly fell. My heart nearly exploded. I nearly ran away. "There's just one thing I can't go on without though, and that's you. Maybe I didn't know it until you yelled at me this evening, maybe I was too blind, too selfish to see it, but I do now." This was it, my last hope. Everything was riding on it. "I love you, Draco."

"What?" He said in a sort of breathless tone.

"I love you." The tears did fall then.

His arms snaked around my waist, and Draco yanked me to him. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words again." His kiss was sweet, and his murmurs sincere, and at that minute, that's all that mattered.

The End

**It is at this moment that I would like to ask how you liked this last little bit. Was it enjoyable? Did it wrap everything up? Did it make sense? I would also like to say, that endings are the hardest things, ever, to write. I spent so much time on this...it has changed so much from the first rough draft. I can't even begin to remember all the changes I've made. So, I hope you like it.**

**Allychik6**


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